Chronicles of the Nerevarine
by Omega Gilgamesh
Summary: It's finally FINISHED! Through trial and hardship, can one broken Dunmer find redemption and peace for his tortured soul? Rated T for mild language, drug references, violence, torture scenes and mild angst.
1. Broken Promises

Chronicles of the Nerevarine

By Omega Gilgamesh

Disclaimer: I don't own Morrowind, nor any of the other Elder Scrolls games. The main character of my story, Raedyn, is entirely of my creation, save for his appearance and the whole destiny as the Nerevarine thing. Any legal infringement is entirely unintentional, and if I become aware of such infringements, I will do what I can to take them out of my story.

Note: For a better visual idea of what Raedyn looks like, go to the character creation section at the beginning of the game. Including the first options, he has the forth male Dunmer face, the one with the thin beard, and the seventh hairstyle, the unkempt shaggy black.

**Chapter One: Broken Promises**

Landscapes flashed and dissipated, presenting themselves for but a moment, as though in a constantly shifting battle tide to be shown in the spotlight. Lush inviting forests and murky luring swamps collided with ashen barrens, through night and day, through clear skies, clouds, and rainfall. All passed by in a hypnotic vision, and through it all, he knew he was not alone.

"They have taken you from the Imperial City's prison." A distant and wise female voice said to him. "First by carriage, and now by boat: to the east, to Morrowind."

He felt her presence, faint, but nevertheless tangible were both the woman and her immense power. He felt like he was falling, descending somewhere far away as he spoke back to her. "They never told me why." He said. He said it not for emphasis, nor as a complaint or as a prelude to a point; it was simply a statement.

"Fear not," the wise woman's voice continued, "for I am watching." As soon as he heard her words, darkness enveloped him, and the female voice died out, only to be replaced by a more familiar one.

"Wake up." It gently pleaded.

Opening his eyes, he found the shirtless Jiub, his bunkmate on the ship, standing next to the hammock he slept on. Bald and ashen skin colored, the Dark Elf's scarred right eye showed a snippet of the portrait that chronicled his incarceration.

Rolling onto his back, he lifted his hand to eyes, and saw the slightly clawed fingertips and sleight gray skin, so like his companion, greet him, as well as the magicka draining slave bracer. _What a dream._ He thought as his shaky hand rubbed his eyes.

"Good thing you woke up, not even last night's storm could wake you." Jiub commented as his bunkmate swung his legs out of the hammock, then asked, "Why are you shaking?"

_I'm not sure myself._ He silently replied. "Weird dream." He answered aloud, in his deep, gravely Dark Elf voice. "What's going on."

"I heard the guard say we've reached Morrowind, I'm sure they'll let us go." The hardened Imperial prisoner sounded somewhat anxious at the prospect.

"Don't get your hopes up, Jiub." He answered. "These are Imperials. They love their voices, not their words. You can never trust the words of those self-righteous sanctimonious-"

"Quiet!" Jiub quickly said. "Here comes the guard." Turning his head toward the bow, he saw a bulky Imperial walking down the ramp.

Stepping less then a couple feet from the two, as if wanting to show them he arrogantly wasn't afraid of these prisoners, he said, "This is where you get off." He turned to address the Elf with hair. "You first. Follow me."

The Imperial turned and left. The Dark Elf got off the hammock fully, and as he started to follow, Jiub said, "Careful. Just do what they say, and don't give them trouble."

The advice was too late. A couple decades too late.

Being as quiet as he could, the Dunmer followed the man, and 'accidentally' got too close, stepping on the heel of the man's fur-capped boots. The human whipped around quickly, yet slow enough the agile Mer jumped back far enough without a sound to look like he was innocent of any wrongdoing. He smiled at the guard, mockingly.

"Watch yourself, Dark Elf, you're on your-"

"Dunmer." The Mer corrected, interrupting.

The Imperial shook his head in annoyance, and continued forward, making sure to keep his distance from the 'Dunmer'. The Mer couldn't help but notice the man kept his hand close to the small mace strapped to his thigh. He smiled. To him, even a victory as small as angering a guard was a worthy victory with an Imperial.

After traveling up the ramp to the second level, they traversing the length of the ship to the stern where steep stairs led to the hatch. Stepping next to the ladder, the Imperial turned, and with an annoyed look directed toward the Mer, said, "Get yourself up on deck and let's keep this as _civil_ as possible."

The Mer scoffed. "I've had enough of 'Imperial civility' for one lifetime." He said as he stepped onto the ladder and pushed the hatch open, admitting late morning sunlight into his red eyes. Standing up on the gently swaying deck, the south caught his eye. The endless Inner Sea stretch far out, bringing back memories of long forgotten sunsets. He had been in prison so long, he had forgotten how it felt looking at the infinite horizon. Strangely, unexpectedly, it made him nervous.

"Move along, Dunmer." Said a nearby Redguard, dressed in Imperial armor.

Taking his red eyes away from the horizon, he turned and walked down the plank to the small, rotted harbor, where another Imperial led him to the Census Office. Inside, there were tapestries decorated with the Dragon inside a red triangle: the crest of the Empire. At the desk was an elderly Imperial in a green dress robe, who greeted him. He seemed strangely friendly, at least for an Imperial. "Ah, yes. We've been expecting you. We'll have to finalize a few papers before you're officially released."

_Released, eh?_ The Mer thought with grim incredulity, before speaking aloud, "What's the catch?"

"Hmm?" The Imperial seemed puzzled for a moment. "Oh, I'm not privy to any conditions for your release, you would have to consult Captain Sellus Gravius for that. I'm merely the Administrator." _There's a catch, I'm sure of it. These Imperials are always duplicitous._ He thought a moment before the elder human continued, "Back to the questions. First off, are you literate?"

_Of course that's what the 'humbly civilized' Imps ask first, whether you can read whatever crap they write._ "Yes, I can read both Imperial and Mer text." It was one of the few things he felt he gained from living under the Empire.

"Ah, good, that makes the next question easier." The old man stated. "Your full name please, and just for accuracy sakes, please spell it out as well." He pulled out a scroll with an ink quill.

"Uriel Septim the Seventh, and I demand a reason for my imprisonment." He answered in a fake Imperial accent.

Before the old man could reply, the nearby guard interjected, "The sooner you finish these papers, the sooner you'll get that off." He motioned toward the enchanted steel bracer on the Mer's right arm.

He sighed, then answered, "Raedyn Otheril." He then spelled it out.

"Ah good." The old man continued. "Now, your date of birth, your current age, and the date when you started your incarceration, please."

"Seventh of Rain's Hand, I'm twenty six now, and I was thrown in my cell on the twentieth of Second Seed seven years ago." Raedyn answered, reluctant and annoyed.

"Ah, that would mean you were born under the Atronach, correct?" When he saw the prisoner wasn't responding, he thought it wise to just continue. "Okay. Next, please state the nature of your crime."

"Murder." Raedyn answered, plainly and impassively, which the elder Imperial didn't seem to react to.

"Next, your parents' names, please." He continued on.

"Never knew my father, and my mother died when I was a kid, so I don't remember their names, only mine. And Otheril isn't a unique name." The Dunmer answered. He answered several questions after that, such as previous occupations, which were few, and official residencies, which were none.

Finally, the man wrote his signature at the bottom of the scroll, and blew on the ink to dry it. Afterward, he took the scroll and rolled it up, then taking the nearby candle on the desk into hand, dripped wax onto it, then pressed his signet ring into it. After giving it a minute to cool, he handed the scroll to Raedyn. "Show this to the captain when you exit to get your release fee. Good day to you Dunmer." He pulled out another scroll and started to work, giving no further attention to the former prisoner.

The guard in the room walked over and took Raedyn's arm and directed him out of the office and to the next building. In there, he found yet another Imperial, this one outfitted in flashy Templar armor. This must have been the captain.

Wordlessly, Raedyn handed the scroll to him. The man opened it, and looked it over. "Ah, Raedyn Otheril. I've been waiting for you." He closed the scroll and placed it on the desk, then grabbed a box wrapped in paper and rope. "I don't know what you did in prison, but the order for your release comes from the hand and word of Emperor Septim himself." He then handed the package to the surprised Raedyn.

The Emperor? He rarely trusted Imperials, and often went so far as to claim that deceit was the sole reason for wordplay being so highly revered in their culture; but to claim that statement as an outright lie wouldn't be giving them their due credit. He'd never encountered an Imperial who was so blatant, they had always been subtle with their deceptions.

"Why should I believe that? Is this a jest?" Raedyn asked, then held up the package. "And what's this?"

As he spoke, the captain accentuated every other word for emphasis. "You were released at the command of his majesty, Uriel Septim the Seventh, and therefore, you owe him for your freedom!" He continued on, now adopting a tone of authority. "You are to take that package to Caius Cosades in Balmora, and there you will receive your orders. Here's a pamphlet with directions."

Raedyn scoffed, pocketing the paper. "Just get this damn thing off me." He held out his right arm, the steel bracer emitting a gentle red glow.

"Before I do, know this. Vvardenfell may not be small, but it's not big, either. If we do not receive confirmation that this package as been delivered in three days, every Imperial and local authority group will be searching for you, and you _will_ get thrown back into your beloved cell. This time without the chance to leave."

"Whatever, just get it off." Raedyn stated.

After a moment, the captain pulled a small, fine key out of his pocket, and pressed it into the small lock on the side the bracer. The thing fell off, and Raedyn felt the relief as his magicka reserves stopped being drained. He didn't use it for anything, but having it drained was still damn uncomfortable.

"Here's your release fee." The captain said, handing the Dunmer a handful of drakes.

"If this is a gift from the Emperor," Raedyn said as he counted the golden coins, "tell him not to be so cheap."

"We give those out to all released prisoner, Otheril." Gravius said, obviously wishing the annoying Dunmer heathen would leave. "We don't release convicts into the wild with nothing but the clothes on their backs. That money is meant to help you live until you find a job. In your case, it's meant to find Cosades and deliver the package."

_Actual sympathy from the Imperial Legion? Now there's something I've never seen._ He pocketed the drakes, and walked out of the office, and into the freedom he so coveted for the last seven years, hindered as it was.

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Half an hour into his 'freedom', Raedyn watched the trees slowly pass around him as he sat in the back of the shell in the strange Silt Strider creature. _So different from Cyrodiil._ He thought. The open spaces of the plains started to bother him, and he sulked to the back of the giant bug. He felt safer, more secure as he pressed against the hollowed out shell's interior, with the walls so close in.

The creature was slower than a horse, but the ride was far smoother. The creature moved along, constantly moving it's legs and shifting it's weight from one appendage to another, so much like a spider.

The creature was only the first of the strange things this land apparently offered. The female Dunmer driver of the giant tick didn't take kindly to him, somehow instantly recognizing him as a foreigner, or 'outlander', but seemed bored, so she talked to him. Most of what she talked about centered around what he was _not_ to do in Vvardenfell. From her lectures, he was able to glean some interesting facts about Morrowind, such as the 'Telvanni', whatever they were, lived in giant mushroom towers, and some great evil, Dagoth Ur, slept under Red Mountain, the center of the island.

He dismissed that belief as silly superstition. There were plenty of crazy beliefs in Cyrodiil, and to him, the worship of the Nine counted as one of them. Of course the arrogant, sanctimonious Imperials would claim that their Emperor was descended from one of the gods, even though no one had ever seen the Nine before. The Daedra were very real, no one disputed that, even Raedyn had seen them before, yet the Imperials place their faith in things they've never seen. If they could believe such a thing, no wonder they didn't view their dictation of the nations for what it really was: conquest.

"Things are never still in Morrowind." The driver ranted on. "If it's not some House politics, it's an Ashlander raid. If it's not some N'wah trying to start a riot, it's a disease outbreak. Even the blight is becoming more frequent. There's always some heretic within the Tribunal Temple who's causing trouble, Almsivi burn them all. Occasionally, some s'wit comes along and proclaims he's part of some heathen prophecy. You'll likely come across a cult that worships the bad Daedra. Unless you want the Ordinators after you as well, stay away from them."

Suddenly, they heard a scream. They looked up and saw a figure fall from the sky and make a small crater less then twenty meters from them. "Do things like that happen often?" Raedyn asked.

"First time I've seen it." She answered. "And I'm not surprised." She then stopped the Silt Strider by a rock formation high enough for them to get out and inspect the body, being careful not to get stuck in the muck swamps.

The being was a Bosmer male, clad in an eloquent green robe. On him was a diary, with the name Terheil inscribed on it, and three scrolls sticking out of a large satchel. Reaching over, Raedyn grabbed one of them, and unrolled it. It was inscribed with Mer text with the words 'Icarian Flight' on the top, but the words below it were barely pronounceable, obviously a Daedric tongue. Only an enchanter could decipher the scroll's purpose.

Raedyn then took the satchel, with the scrolls in it, opting to keep it for himself. After all, the dead Wood Elf wasn't going to need it.

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A few hours later, Raedyn reached Balmora, and was glad to see nearly every face belonged to a Dark Elf. Occasionally there was an Argonian or a Nord, but most were Dunmer. As he made his way through the city toward the river that ran through it, he couldn't help but notice the stares he received. Now and then, he heard someone mutter "another outlander". He wondered, not for the first time, how they knew.

A slight rain had started to come down, and hearing the thunder off in the distance, Raedyn hurried up his search. After checking the pamphlet numerous times to recheck the directions, he arrived at the house he deducted was the home of this Imperial he was supposed to see. Not even bothering to knock, he lifted the latch and walked in. The steadily increasing rain was part of the reason for his hasty entry, but another was his discomfort being out in the open. He couldn't quite place it, but he felt exposed, vulnerable when he was outside, and always looked at any tight spaces he could see as a welcome spot to crawl into.

He stepped into the small house, and quickly saw a human male, with the sideways oval face of an Imperial, with no shirt on and white hair. The man looked to be in his late fifties, and had the physique of a long time farmer. The house also had the distinct, if faint, smell of skooma.

The Imperial regarded him with mild surprise at the sudden entry. "Can I…help you?" He questioned.

"If you're Caius Cosades," the Dunmer threw the package at the man, who deftly caught it, "then take this. If you're not, then take it to him." He turned to leave, but the Imperial grabbed his arm with a gentle grip.

"Hold on, I don't think whoever sent you to give me this wanted you to leave so suddenly." He said with a subtle tone that showed he knew what was going on. He walked past the Dunmer, and closed the door on the increasing rain. "I was told to expect you. I think we have some talking to do."

"You're dumber than the usual Imperial." Raedyn remarked.

Unperturbed, the old human asked, "And why do you say that?"

"Because you closed the door, now no one will see us." He then launched himself at the man, seven years of anger towards Imperials finding a means for release.

Half a second later, Raedyn slammed against the wall with numbing force, hard enough to knock a couple books over on the shelf. He hit the ground, coughing and hacking after breath returned to his lungs, then fell over onto his side, as dizziness kept him from staying up. As his head started to clear up, through his coughs he asked, "Who are you?" Knowing now this old man was not what he seemed.

"For now, I'm just an old man with a skooma problem." The Imperial said, placing the package on the nearby table. "Now, young Mer, it's getting late. I believe Sellus Gravius gave you some money upon your release? You should have enough to afford a bed for the night at the South Wall Corner Club, and I expect to see you in the morning, understood?" Raedyn nodded, still coughing. "Good. Now off with ye, I've a package to decode." He finished off, sounding like the typical posh Imperial as he sat down at the small table in the room.

Raedyn slowly got to his feet, and with equal lethargy, left the small house and made his way, through the torrential downpour, to the club he passed on his way to the old man. The cold, stinging rain was a welcome distraction, and not from his aching body.

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He laid in his room awake as the nightly hours passed, staring at the far wall with the focus of one who wanted to shut out the world. He liked this room. It was small, dark, quiet, with nothing but the rain pebbling the resin and clay roof and the soft gay banter from a few patrons of the club to break up the serenity. He saw everything in the room, and would know instantly if there was anything out of place. For the first time since arriving in Morrowind, he felt safe. The warmth of the room, soft bed and bedding, and the lack of soaked clothing, which now hung at the foot posts of the bed, were only minor commodities. He liked it in there, it felt like his cell, back in Cyrodiil.

The small, cramped dungeon cell may have been cold and damp, but while he was there, he was safe. The first nights in prison were daunting and outright painful, yet he quickly learned to yearn for his cell. He was safe there. He wouldn't be put to labor there. No one would attack him from behind in there. As long as he was alone in his cell, he was safe. It was only when others were in there, or when he was pulled out, did he have to be careful and watchful.

The small, cramped room was, like his cell, safe. And just like his cell, he became anxious when he left it. The open spaces were daunting to him, filling him with fear and paranoia, dissolving him into a nervous coward, constantly looking over his shoulder for the knife he knew wasn't really there. He couldn't stop thinking he wasn't safe when he was outside his little cell.

Seven years, more than a quarter of his life wasted in the mills and mines and quarries. For so many years, he wanted to leave those, and when he did, they wouldn't leave him. The Emperor probably knew how much worse he was being released after so long. Uriel Septim truly deserved his place as the highest voice amongst Imperials. If only he had left him alone, he wouldn't be so scared. If only he…

Raedyn knew none of this wouldn't have happened if only he had let it go. If only he hadn't killed that man.

_Hungry and homeless on the streets of Chorrel, the nineteen year old Dunmer lived by stealing food, and defending himself with his dagger. He stole what he could, forcefully took what he couldn't, and when the authorities got involved, he ran, only to eventually wander into another settlement and repeat the cycle, knowing there would eventually be no place for him to hide. All his praying to the Nine did him no good. Not even the priests would help him._

_It all changed one day, when an apple he stole fell from his hands, and started rolling down the inclined cobblestone street, only to be crushed by a horses hoof. He just stood there, staring at the red and off-white mess now adorning the street, as the Imperial Noble on his steed continued on. He had risked jail, fines, and a beating, only to have his catch crushed by someone who couldn't be bothered to care._

_As the Noble began to pass him, the human noticed the angered and pained look in the dirty Mer's eyes, looking at his ruined meal. Then he saw those red eyes turn on him, as he refused to get fully out of the way of the horse. After correcting the horse to go around the barely adult Elf, the Imperial muttered, "Filthy Mer urchin." He then lifted his foot from the stirrup, and viciously kicked the stuck-up peasant into a nearby puddle. The Noble continued on, as if nothing ignoble had happened, now adorning an irate frown._

_The next moments were like a dream to Raedyn, as he pulled his dagger from his belt, stood up, and charged._

Ever since then, he regretted killing the man. The bastard deserved it, Raedyn would never admit otherwise. Yet it wasn't worth the cold nights, the horrible food, the painstaking labor, nor the indignities he suffered from the guards and inmates alike. It wasn't worth breaking his promise.

_Raedyn, promise me not to run toward trouble, but away from it. If ever you're in trouble, just run._

"Mother." He whispered. "I'm sorry. I wish I could run away now." He couldn't. He knew the Captain's threat was real. All his bravado and claims were merely bluffs: he never wanted to go back to prison. In the hours that he'd been on Vvardenfell, he had often imagined that, were the Legions to come after him, that he would fight his way out, refusing to be taken alive, and fighting until he died. He wasn't so foolish, so naïve to believe he would be that brave, in that moment. "I can't run. I'm sorry."

End of Chapter One.

Author's Notes: Kinda boring, I know. Well, I'd like a little more than simply 'this is good' or whatever. I'd like to know what I'm doing well, and what I'm not doing well, if you can articulate such.


	2. Portends of Prophecy

Note: I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but I'm going to try and exclude as many miscellaneous quests as I can, and focus just on what I meant for this story to be: Raedyn saving Morrowind, and coming to terms with his past and himself. The reason I brought up this subject was Terheil and his 'hey, where'd the ground go' scrolls. I wrote that section because they will play a part later in the story.

**Chapter Two: Portends of Prophecy**

As Raedyn walked out of the South Wall Corner Club in the late morning, after sleep came to him purely through exhaustion, he made his way down the roads and stairs to the Imperial's house. As he walked, he once again found himself, unwittingly, walking close to building walls in order to gain a small sense of security while outdoors.

When he realized this, he closed his eyes and grit his teeth. _Calm down, Raedyn._ He silently ordered himself. Unless this land offered him a chance to live indoors the rest of his life, he was going to have to learn to deal with this phobia.

When he made it to the door leading to Cosades' house, instead of barging in like last time, he knocked a few times, remembering the bruise still on the back of his head. After a few moments, the door opened, showing the aged Imperial, still without a shirt on. Raedyn couldn't help but notice the slightly stronger aroma of sugar in the room compared to the night before, as well as the red in Caius' eyes.

"Find reason to celebrate last night?" Raedyn asked, dryly.

While stifling a yawn, Caius answered drowsily with a hint of frustration, "Just had to relax after the package. But it's still none of your business!" He then rubbed his eyes heavily, his next words sounding somewhat apologetic, "Well, that may not really be true anymore. Come in, we have much to discuss."

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An hour later, Caius lead Raedyn out of his house. The Dark Elf was quiet, still digesting what he had learned: that the elderly human was the Spymaster for the Blades, the Imperial Spy Network, here on Vvardenfell, and he was ordered to induct Raedyn into the group as his subordinate. He expected the human to be more than he was, as he had never met any Imperial regular infantryman with the hand-to-hand skills the old man displayed the night before, yet it seemed he wasn't entirely prepared for what he got.

Walking a short distance from the small house at the corner of the settlement, Caius, fully clothed now with a commoner's shirt, he walked toward a very small apartment house. Walking under the stairway leading to the room above, Caius knocked on the door to the lower apartment. Soon after, an Altmer opened the door, and greeted Caius warmly. He ushered the two in, and as soon as they were inside, Caius grabbed a nearby broom, and using the top of the stick, poked the ceiling a few times, hard enough to where anyone in the apartment above would hear it. A minute later, a Redguard in bonemold armor walked into the Altmer's apartment.

"Ah, good, this'll do." Caius said, his Imperial voice now clean and clear, showing no signs of his former drowsiness. "You two can fill in Nine-toes when he returns from his expedition. Journeyman Rithleen, Journeyman Tyermaillin, this is the newest addition to the Blades, Novice Raedyn Otheril." The Imperial then addressed his Dunmer subordinate, "Several skills are required for any adept Blades agent. Besides discretion and intelligence gathering, all agents need to be able to defend themselves. Tell me, do you have skill with any particular weapon or magic variety?"

This was all happening a little fast for Raedyn, and he was struggling to digest all this new information. "Uh, I have some skill with short blades." He finally informed. Back in prison, daggers and tantos were just about the only weapon one was able to hide and wield, as all prisoners had their magicka draining bracers on day and night, preventing them from using any form of magic. What skills he learned on the streets, he relied on and refined in prison.

"That's a start," Caius said, sounding somewhat disappointed, "but I think it best you receive training from Rithleen here in the long blade. Short blades do have their advantages, but being an agent, we want others to trust us, and seeing a tool used more often by assassins than common adventurers will likely make it harder to talk freely with common folk."

The Redguard woman, Rithleen, extended her hand out. "It'll be my pleasure, Raedyn." The Dunmer hesitated a few moments before accepting the handshake.

Caius continued. "I'd also like you to take magic lessons from Tyermaillin here as well. He has a wide variety of spells he can teach, and can offer training in the different colleges." The Altmer nodded with a smile toward his Elven cousin before Caius continued on. "Since you will be dealing mostly with intelligence gathering, I think it best that you become a freelance adventurer, probably starting with one of the Guilds. I would recommend the Mage's Guild. They often send you to different locations around Vvardenfell, which will broaden your horizons of this land and help you fit in the role of a common adventurer."

"Do they pay well?" Raedyn asked, not fond of the idea of being outside a lot. Good payment would help him combat his newly found phobia. Yet at the same time, he wasn't liking the idea of working for any organization. His whole life, he had survived on his own without the need to slave away for money. More than anything else, it was the threat of going back to the Imperial Prisons that kept him from openly refusing Caius' recommendations.

"Oh yes, you'll make enough to get by, I'm sure." Caius replied. "Now, my friends, if you'll excuse me, I have some documents to go over. Tyermaillin, why don't you teach Raedyn a few rudimentary spells if you have the time? At the very least, make sure he can cast a simple fire spell and use scrolls. And Raedyn, you can start your lessons with Rithleen at her discretion."

"I'm open at all times." The Redguard added. "I'm still recovering from Ataxia Disease I had a few days ago, so I'm not going anywhere in my condition, but I can still train you. Come by my place whenever you want and I should be able to help you."

With that, the two humans in the room left, leaving the Dark Elf and High Elf alone. After some time going over the basics of the different colleges, Tyermaillin started tutoring him in the College of Conjuration, how to exert one's will over the lesser beings of Oblivion. Twenty minutes later, Raedyn successfully formed a daedric dagger in his hands.

"Be sure to practice that." Tyermaillin instructed as the Dunmer inspected the weightless weapon in his hands. "I wouldn't rely on it in a fight unless I could summon it without fail when I'm not in danger. Now, which would you like to learn next? The College of Destruction? Illusion?"

"I have a few scrolls here I'd like to learn how to use." Raedyn answered, pulling out the Icarian Flight scrolls. "I don't know what they do, though."

The Altmer took one of the scrolls, unrolled it, and began to read. As he deciphered the coding and symbols, his focus intensified, until he finally said, "I've never seen a scroll like this before? Whoever scribed them must've been a genius. Probably a fool, as these are entirely impractical, but genius nonetheless."

"What do they do?" Raedyn asked with bored impatience.

"Well, it would be difficult to fully explain if you don't already have a good knowledge of the College of Restoration, how it affects the body, and how the body works, but I can summarize it as this: it makes you jump high. Really, really high." He then laughed, and asked in a joking manner, "I don't suppose whoever you got these from just fell from the sky, did he?"

Raedyn just smiled nervously, "He might have used one himself before giving me them."

Tyermaillin laughed. "I doubt that. Unless you're jumping to the top of a monstrously high cliff, no one could survive this." He rolled the scroll back up and handed it back to the Dunmer. "Keep them, or try and sell them if you want, there might be someone in the Mage's Guild who would pay to study them, but don't ever use it."

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After a long discussion about the different Guilds available, Raedyn finally accepted the decision, though grudgingly, to join the Mage's Guild. It wasn't as dangerous as the Fighter's Guild, with his current level of skill with armor and long blades, and though he had skills in the trade of the Thieves' Guild, he wasn't going to risk going back to prison so easily. So he joined the Mage's Guild, and was set to work almost immediately…

…as the errand boy of the lowest ranks in the Guild. He rarely did anything besides gathering herbs at alchemical stores, or go out in the wilderness, in all his agoraphobia, to pick plants. At least it helped him deal with it. He did the jobs, as he was paid immediately after finishing each, but that didn't stop the liberal complaints and insults. After a few too many comments about his patrons, Guild Stewardess Ranis Athrys gave him a vicious verbal assault about ethics. Since then he made sure to bite his tongue. It wasn't so much for the honor or understanding of why ethics were in place, but to keep that Dunmer harpy off his back.

Rithleen gave him a steel katana and shield made of netch hide, and started instructing him in their use. The Redguard woman worked him hard, she seemed to have a limitless supply of stamina for someone recovering from a disease. He quickly decided to take the lesson at the end of the day, after his Guild chores and training with Tyermaillin ended, as he was left exhausted afterwards. Yet he was surprised by what he learned from her. He had always assumed long bladed swordplay was merely brute force on brute force, when it actually shared more in common with short swordsmanship than not. Dodging and avoiding direct attacks were still preferred over blocking, but it was still an option with the long blade, unlike the short one, and the targets were still vital areas on the opponent that were tough to cover with armor.

A few times, he met with the Argonian Nine-toes to learn some basics of hunting, stalking, and gutting animals. He had skill in hunting from his peasant days, running from one settlement to another, but he still picked up a few tricks.

Tyermaillin continued to instruct him in the different colleges. He could successfully cast low-grade shock and fire elemental spells, became better and better at conjuring a dagger, then learned how to conjure gauntlets. He discovered he had an affinity for the College of Mysticism. He could detect people and animals within fifty feet, use a Soul Trap spell with good efficiency, and could manipulate small objects with Telekinesis at fifteen feet. He was still working on Almsivi Intervention, and Tyermaillin wouldn't teach him Mark or Recall until he did.

A few times as he finished up with Rithleen, Caius would stop him before he'd sack out at the South Wall Corner Club, and give him a book to read. At first he said he wasn't interested, but when he saw Caius wouldn't let him go until he agreed to read it and tell him what he read, he grudgingly agreed. At first he had to force himself to read the minor history books on Morrowind, but soon became fascinated by them. He always assumed the providence was simply conquered by the Imperials. He rarely read books back in Cyrodiil, but he found himself looking forward to studying up on this land he was stuck in.

After a week of torturously trite chores in the guild, Ranis had a discussion with him on his magical abilities thus far, then promoted him from Associate to Apprentice, and told him his new chores would be the next day. Over the next fifteen hours, Raedyn wondered if he was excited by the break from the monotonous chores from before, or worried that what he was about to start was worse.

As Raedyn stepped into the Mages Guild late in the morning, Ranis greeted him. "Good morning, Apprentice. I have your new chore." She reached into a satchel and pulled out several gems. "You are to fill each of these soul gems with kagouti souls, no diseased ones. Normally we would start you off with fewer soul gems to fill, but we've received shipment requests from the Legion, and we're on a schedule. You'll find more kagouti up north around Ald'ruhn and Maar Gan. Here's two hundred septims for disease and blight potions. Good luck, Apprentice." She turned and walked started down the hall.

"Wait," Raedyn pleaded, "you want me to fill _all_ of them?" There had to be fifteen soul gems.

"Yes, Apprentice Raedyn. Like I said, we're short on time and supplies. We must have all of them by tomorrow night at the latest. Now be off, I have other work to perform."

Raedyn was about to say something about the work, or lack there of, she did, but wisely held back. He dreaded the thought of how much worse her tirades would be if his comments were directed at her. He gave up, and left, hoping kagouti were easy, common prey.

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They weren't. Raedyn had a talk with Nine-toes before he paid for Silt Strider service to Ald'ruhn, and what the Argonian told him didn't sound pleasing. Kagouti weren't the fiercest or most dangerous of local wildlife, but fifteen kills on one trip was pushing reasonable standards for a novice. He gave the Dunmer all the advice he could, telling him the most important thing was to use his head.

After arriving in Ald'ruhn in the afternoon, he started his search for the kagouti, making sure never to stray far from the beaten path. The tracks were easy to find, but the creatures themselves were hard to catch up with. As afternoon turned to evening, he had encountered five kagouti, and four had run from him, the last one was probably hungry. They were large and not slow at all, but far from nimble.

As dusk approached, and the ashlands cooled down, Raedyn laid himself against a rock formation to rest. Six hours, and only one kagouti out of fifteen. He wasn't going to get paid for this job. If he was having this much trouble with his first Apprentice-rank chore, he saw himself quickly getting demoted, or likely expelled. This was why he almost never had a job growing up.

After a few minutes of resting, he saw, through a nearby bush, a kagouti walking around, it's back turned to him. Deciding to take the chance, he got to his feet and crouched low. He then formed a blue sphere of electrical magic in his hand. It wasn't strong, and it would likely never kill a healthy kagouti, but it would at least stun it. He concentrated on forming a thin layer around the sphere, so that it wouldn't burst the instant his fingers weren't wrapped around it; that way it could reach targets outside of his reach. Reaching back, he thrust his hand forward, and the ball flew out, quickly striking the kagouti to the left of it's tail, burning and paralyzing it's left haunch and leg. Raedyn got up quickly, and used a Soul Trap spell, then cut it's head open with his katana.

His satchel lit up from the inside as one of the soul gems got filled. _That wasn't too hard._ He thought. Though it made sense to sneak up and attack without them knowing he was there, up until this point he didn't think he could actually do it. Here, all it took was being downwind behind a bush. That was far easier than he thought. What else out here could he use to his advantage?

Ideas came slowly at first, but his thought process soon started to snowball, and he couldn't stop himself from running out and start tracking the ugly beasts once again. Using sight, tracks, and Detection spells from the College of Mysticism, he found three more kagouti before it became dark, and Raedyn had three more soul gems filled.

It was only fear of losing sight of the road in the dark that made him return to Ald'ruhn before dusk had settled. Suddenly, this 'chore' became a game, one where he had to use creativity to win. Each kagouti was different; one he lured into a little valley between rows of rocks with a piece of nix-hound meat, which Raedyn brought along as a meal if he got hungry, while the Dunmer waited on the rocked watching the clueless animal below. Another one, he waited in shadow until the beast was in the right spot to chase it between two crops of rocks into a dead end. The third one, he conjured up a dagger, and used telekinesis to hurl the weapon right into the creature's head, the daedric weapon cutting through hard bone like it was butter.

He spent the night at the house of Gilden, another Blades operative, where he was up half the night thinking of new ways to dispatch kagouti. He was excited. He hadn't been this excited since…since before his mother died.

As he laid in his bed when that revelation hit, his mood quickly became more solemn. His childhood was non-descript up until his mother died. With no friends or known relatives of hers to take him in and no orphanages that accepted elven children, the eight year old Dunmer soon learned how to live off what he could find on the streets, with nothing but the steel dagger his mother always kept when they left the house at night. He remembered, before his mother died, how he used to play games with the neighbors' cats, and thought up games or imaginary settings wherever they went. It all changed after his mother died from that rare disease, and he was forced to live in a harsh, unforgiving world all too soon.

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The next day, he got up early and put his strategies to good use. By mid-afternoon, he had all the soul gems filled up, and when evening came, he was back in Balmora. He was told, then, that the other guild members on the same chore performed so well she didn't need all fifteen kagouti souls. So after giving them the soul gems and receiving his payment for the chore, he was given standard payment for the three spare common-quality soul gems with kagouti in them: twenty-four hundred Septims.

As he left the guild on his way to purchase an expensive dinner, he saw a bookshop. He always thought it interesting how writers were able to immortalize themselves through words, and had often thought of doing it himself, if only through a journal. He had always put it off, but today, he felt the need to get things done. He walked into the store and purchased a blank journal, ink dipper and quill.

That night, as he sat on his bed, before blowing out the candle in the lantern, he opened his journal and started writing:

_5th Hearthfire, 427 3rd Era._

_This starry, clear night marks the end of my tenth day in Vvardenfell, and the longest I've gone without stealing food. In a span of time so short it's nearly left me dizzy, I've gone from being an Imperial prisoner to a half-free Mer, learning magic and sword from those who serve the Empire. While it is strange how the Empire's faith toward me has mysteriously, or perhaps miraculously, turned around completely for this soul who's always despised it so, it is even stranger that I am gradually feeling less chained here by threats of imprisonment, and everyday I feel more that, given the choice, I might actually choose the life I live now._

_This land is strange, I cannot deny that. Whatever kinship I have with the native Dunmer through my race and sentiment for the Empire is offset by my being an Outlander. Despite this, I've never felt more welcome. Up until now, I've run away from the hardships life threw at me. The last two days has opened my eyes to this fact._

_Yesterday, I was given what I thought to be an impossible task: to fill a dozen soul gems with a certain kind of creature's soul in only a day and a half. I placed little hope in this difficult task, and even less faith in myself. I had all but given up, when by chance, I realized how it was not the nature of the task that made it difficult, but it was me, all along. After that, the task became easier. It still wasn't easy, but it became thrilling._

_These past few hours, I've pondered on the days and years behind me, wondering if, all this time, has the one holding me back been none other than myself? I'm still not sure of the answer, but one thing has become clear to me these last couple days: there may be more that I'm capable of than I thought._

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Caius stood with hips pressed against the railing on the roof of his house, staring at the stars, trying to drown himself, once again, in Imperial business to distract him from his hunger for sugar. He knew it was in vain: he'd eventually give in and indulge his sweet tooth before he went to sleep. At least this way, he was able to fill out his duties before hand. His extensive experience with working in such a critical position for the empire told him that, as long as they got results from him, they didn't care if he had a sugar problem.

He looked off to the side and saw the Odai River passing through the town, seeing the moon reflect off the coursing water. He thought back to his skooma pipe, how the silvery liquid would get warmed up from the little flame, and become all the better as he sipped…

_No, sweets are for later!_ He adamantly told himself, using all his discipline to focus on his current tasks. _The Prophesies. Just focus on finding out what you can on the Prophesies._ Believing his subordinate to be nearly ready to help him investigate these Prophecies, he had made sure to ask Ranis of Raedyn's progress, claiming the young Mer to be a friend of his nephew, and that he had promised to keep him out of trouble. He didn't know Ranis well, knowing her more by reputation, as he'd only talked to her a few times in the years he'd lived in Balmora, but her answers were pretty much as he had expected: they were blunt. She thought of the young Mer as an arrogant, grouchy outlander with no understanding of manners. But word on his recent assignment was reassuring. Blunt as she was, she admitted that she didn't expect him to complete the task in full, and that was why she had multiple guild members on the same task.

Even more assuring, if not just shocking, was Rithleen's praise for his skill with the katana he had. Though he didn't seem to realize it, she said he had more natural talent with the long blade than she had ever seen in anyone, Dunmer or Redguard alike. It was not like he was 'learning' to use the sword, but more like he was 'remembering' how. She claims he gained the amount of skill in a week what most people don't get until a year into training.

This bit of news was indeed assuring. Assuring, and even a little frightening.

End of Chapter Two.

Author's Notes: In case you didn't get the hint, Raedyn's unnatural talent with the long blade comes from him being Nerevar Reborn. And in case you didn't notice, part of this chapter was inspired by the little notes you get when you level up, about how your character is "more aware" and stuff. Interesting little factoid: my computer did not indicate a possible misspelling with the word Ataxia. Curious, I looked it up, and found it's an actual disease. Fancy, that.

Once again, constructive criticism is welcome, and if you notice any inconsistencies, let me know. If you find the price is off with the kagouti souls, take note that souls cost differently in different gems.


	3. Encounters along the Gates of Ghosts

Note: In this chapter, I didn't want the initial quests to be too canonical, as in novel form, they are, frankly, kind of inane unless I wanted to reiterate all the information we already knew. I hope the changes I make will help make the story flow better. Also, I know that the singular form of Daedra is Daedroth, but since that also happens to be the name of a certain breed of Daedra, then I'll make the plural form the singular form as well, just for the sake of clarity.

**Chapter Three: Encounters along the Gates of Ghosts**

After traversing the multi-layered dirt roads of the residential district of Balmora, Raedyn walked out of the morning sunshine and into Caius Cosades house without knocking. The moment he saw the Imperial, the elder human was holding three silver throwing stars in his right hand, ready to throw in a moment's notice. Recognizing the Dunmer, he sighed, and put the weapons back under the pillow on his bed. "You shouldn't barge into people's homes like that. I nearly killed you!"

"Is that part of traditional Imperial courtesy." Raedyn said, curtly. "If someone shows such disregard to manners, the righteous Imperials have the right to perform executions."

Caius's face contorted. _That attitude is not abating._ "If anyone here knew what I really was, I wouldn't survive the night. It's my job to be prepared."

"Is Imperial courtesy why I haven't gotten an answer as to why I'm here yet?" Raedyn then asked, as he grabbed a fork on the table and ate a piece of the Kwama egg omelet on a plate on the table.

Caius, trying to keep his patience in check, pulled the Dunmer away from his breakfast. "The reasons for the Emperor releasing you and placing you on the Blades is as much a mystery to you as it is to me." He lied to his subordinate. "Now, I've given you time to understand your way around Vvardenfell, and I believe you're ready for your first assignment."

The Dunmer crossed his arms as he reluctantly gave the human his attention. "Lately, two cults have arisen," Caius explained, "and it's our job to determine if they're a threat to his majesty's rule or to Morrowind. Your assignment is to contact Hasphat Antabolis, the drillmaster over at the Fighter's Guild, and ask for information pertaining to the Nerevarine Cult or the Sixth House Cult. He's lived in Morrowind his whole life, and prides himself as a scholar on local history and lore, so he should have some information about those two subjects. If he gives you a copy of any notes, I want you to look them over as well, since we'll likely be dealing with these two cults in the future, and it'll be best that you understand as much about them as I do."

Raedyn fixed the Imperial with a mildly incredulous stare. "That's it? Just ask him about it? Why don't you do it? Is it because you're the Imperial?"

"One: because it will break you into the routine of things here in the Blades." Caius explained, his patience being strained. "And two: because I'm an old man with a skooma problem. If I suddenly decided to talk to Hasphat for no apparent reason, it will be noticed by others. And eventually, there will likely be someone who'll barge into my home that I _will_ have to kill. Now get on it!"

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An hour later, Raedyn knocked once before barging into Caius's house, a few papers in hand, finding the Imperial sitting at his table. "I have the notes. There better be a reward for this truly, truly difficult task." He declared, voice dripping with annoyed sarcasm.

"Raedyn, what did I tell you about barging into my house?" Caius demanded, quickly pushing the skooma pipe he was cleaning behind the lantern on the table so no one outside would see it.

"I knocked." Raedyn snidely answered. "Here're the papers. I've read them, like you told me to."

Caius took the papers from the outstretched hand, and started looking through them, noting one of them was a list of books relevant to the subject matter. "He didn't ask for anything in return?"

"He said he still owed you for that Dwemer puzzle box." Raedyn answered. "He only knew about the Sixth House, and pretty much nothing about the Nerevar-Reborn cult."

Caius looked at Raedyn. "Nerevar-Reborn? I thought you said you knew nothing about it."

"In the Mer language, Nerevarine means 'Nerevar Reincarnated'. You're in the home of the Dunmer, and you don't know Merique, the tongue of the Elves? What kind of spymaster are you?" Caius just harrumphed at this comment and started reading the papers as Raedyn went on. "He said we should talk to Sharn Gra-Muzgob about the Nerevarine Cult."

"And that's what you're going to do." Caius replied, not taking his eyes from the papers. "The two hundred gold on the table is for you. Good job, just work on the attitude. It'll get you killed, and not by me. Do you know this Sharn?"

"Barely." Raedyn answered. "She was constantly busy and wouldn't so much as look at me or anyone else unless we were in her way."

Caius kept his eyes on the papers, apparently reading them while carrying on the conversation with his Dunmer subordinate. "Talk to her about the Sixth House Cult. You got off easy with Hasphat, most people will only talk about these subjects if you do them a favor, so expect to do something for her before she'll hand over the information."

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As Raedyn walked down to the study in the lower level of the Mage's Guild, passing the branch woven arches supporting the high ceiling of resin and clay, he instantly saw the Orc female moving around the room in haste, with her arms full, just like every time he ever recalled seeing her. Walking up to her, he said to her, "Journeyman Sharn?"

She nearly jumped. She turned on him quickly, yelling, "What, what, WHAT? Can't you see I'm busy! What does an Orc have to do to get stuff done?"

Raedyn quickly backed up due to the force of the ensuing tirade. "Hey, hey, I just have some questions, that's all."

"Make them quick!" She ordered, furiously sorting a pile of scrolls on the nearby table in the area that was unofficially designated as Sharn's work space by the rest of the Guild chapter's members.

"I just wanted to talk about what you know about the Nerevarine Cult." Raedyn answered.

"Do your own research." She quickly replied.

"What?" Raedyn asked, dumbfounded.

"I can't summarize that in a few short sentences. So do the research yourself, I'm too busy to indulge you." After filing and chronicling the scrolls, she quickly looked through her large collection of books, obviously looking for something in particular. "Why do you want to know about that anyways? It's heresy, after all."

"I just wanted to know." Raedyn answered forcefully.

"Then no." Sharn answered.

Raedyn counted to ten, remembered what Caius said about the possibility of a favor, then said, "Since you're so busy, is there anything I can do for you to help, so that you can have the free time to indulge my curiosity?"

After a few moments, Sharn slowed to a stop, the first he had ever seen her still, and she looked to him, apparently evaluating him. After a minute, she said, "Okay. I was going to leave for the Fadathram Ancestral Tomb later, but I guess I can send you for this task, if you don't mind a little traveling and searching, and possibly a Blight Storm."

"Blight Storm?" Raedyn asked.

"You wanted to know if I wanted any favors," Sharn started, but was interrupted.

"No, what's a Blight Storm?" Raedyn clarified.

"You must really be new to Morrowind." The Orc Mage commented. "In short, the devil and nemesis of the Tribunal, Dagoth Ur, sleeps in Red Mountain, and he, his minions, and his cursed Blight is contained there by the Ghostfence and supposedly by the Tribunal's power. Occasionally the Blight spills over and creates a Blight Storm.

"Ghostfence?" Raedyn asked.

Sharn groaned, and said, "You'll find out when you get there, now I've got stuff to do! Just go to Ald'ruhn, ask about the Fadathram Tomb, and fetch me the skull of Llewle Fadathram, should be easy to find."

"A skull? What do you need a skull for?" Raedyn asked, greatly confused.

"Necromancy, now GO!"

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Later that day, after collecting a few assorted soul gems, Raedyn traveled via Silt Strider to Ald'ruhn, Merique for Shrine or Alter of the Warrior. After asking a guard about directions to the Fadathram Ancestral Tomb, he left the settlement to the east and followed the path as it gradually sloped up. He had been warned that a Daedric Shrine, Ramimilk, was nearby, and to be cautious of Daedra that may have wandered near.

Shortly after leaving the dusty, clay gates, the ground gradually became steeper, making the normally short trek longer and more exerting, leaving Raedyn with a dirty sheen of sweat on his dark skin and his thin beard itching. After several minutes, the Dunmer finally saw the road level out ahead. With a deep breath to feed his muscles, he made a light dash up the trail. Living in a small cell for over half a decade made long walks difficult, with even short jogs leaving him breathless. The strenuous exercise with Rithleen and often long treks for the Guild had helped, but he knew if he was going to survive this land, he needed to toughen up.

As Raedyn reached the top of the slope, he saw, not fifty feet down the path, in a wall of rock, the multi-layered arches leading to a door that signified a family burial tomb; but that was not what made Raedyn forget about his burning lungs. Above and beyond the rocky walls surrounding the tomb entrance, Raedyn saw a great translucent cerulean wall erected on the slopes to the massive Red Mountain. The wall rose so high, he could barely tell where it ended, with gigantic stone pillars, looking like guard towers, established at what seemed to be even intervals, from what he could tell from his limited visibility.

Momentarily forgetting the tomb, Raedyn made for the wall, climbing large rocks. When at last he reached it, he saw it was not made of any glass or stone, but of raw magicka. Tentatively, he lifted his gloved hand and pressed it against the wall. It was smooth as glass, and through his glove he could tell it was cool. Pulling his glove back, he saw residual magicka stuck to his glove, the blue energy like a fine, moist powder, giving off a light glow.

He turned his sights back to the wall, and past the wall. Though tinted in cerulean blue, he could tell everything past was red, with heavy winds beating against what he had deducted to be the Ghostfence.

Suddenly, he noticed a motion within that torrent of wind and dust. A humanoid silhouette became visible within. The closer it got, the less it looked like Man or Mer. It was as tall as an Altmer, but above the waist it was even bulkier than an Orc. The winds and dust picked up, and concealed the creature, hiding it from him as though hiding a secret from the Dunmer. Or possibly, hiding the Dunmer from the creature?

Suddenly a hand pressed against the wall. Raedyn jumped at the sudden appearance, and went cold at the sight of the hand itself. Pasty white and pale yellow, the palm and what little was visible of the forearm had gashes in the flesh, exposing pink flesh, yet no blood flowed from the wounds. No, those were not cuts, the skin had be forcefully _torn_ open!

Moments later, the winds abated slightly, exposing the monster the arm connected to, for if it was once a Man or Mer, it was no longer. It wore pants, now ragged from enduring the mountain and whatever else resided there, but it's bare upper body was a collection of huge outgrowths of flesh, with tears similar to it's palm where lumps grew too quickly for the skin to stretch properly. Whatever facial features the creature might have had before the fleshy growths formed were gone now, with it's lips pulled so hard from it's mouth, it's gums and teeth were fully exposed, black and yellow from rot, and it's eyes were miniscule, barely visible from the puffy skin on it's face. It's right arm was nothing but a collection of bulging growths, four times as thick as an Orc's, leaving little question why the creature lumbered, dragging the limb along the ground.

The creature put it's face close to the wall, and then Raedyn got a good look at it's eyes. Those beady black orbs held barely contained rage and madness, yet he sensed vast, vast pain beyond them, both in body and soul. He had seen such eyes before, from the prisons. Inmates chained to walls, merely waiting for the noose, not able to stand the pain of the chains holding him, knowing he was going to die, in such pain and anguish they wished for death then and there, instead of the torturous wait. This creature craved it's own merciful death.

After several minutes, the creature back away, and was soon consumed, once again, by the winds. After it was gone, Raedyn let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. _What was that?_ He wondered. What could have created something like that? With creatures like that, there was little wonder the natives believed something evil slept within the mountain. And what if the myths were true?

Raedyn's reverie was suddenly broken as he felt a sharp pain on his leg. Reeling from shock, he saw a cave rat latched onto he leg, his sudden jump causing the varmint's teeth to cut the skin more. Gaining a measure of control over his reactions, he pulled his steel katana from it's sheath at his waist, and severed the creature's head, instantly killing it. Disappointed that didn't make it let go, Raedyn carefully reached down and pried the thing's jaws open, and left the Ghostfence and started toward the Fadathram Ancestral Tomb.

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The inside of the tomb was made of the same clay and resin the homes of Balmora was made of. After applying ointment and bandaging his recent wound just as Nine-toes had instructed, he continued into the tomb. The trip through the tomb was uneventful; he was afraid it wouldn't be. He had heard, from one of Galbedir's rants how the native Dunmer were often hypocritical, that they utterly despised necromancy, yet the way they often employed the remains of their family members to guard the tombs was essentially the same thing. He found this talk of the ethics of necromancy strange coming from a Bosmer, who eat their dead relatives.

He almost missed the shrine for Llewle Fadathram, as the tapestries designating each lot was written in archaic Mer characters. After digging through the ashes, he recovered the skull, put it in his satchel, and began retracing his steps.

As he stepped out of the tomb, feeling tired and what might have been the beginnings of a fever, he heard the sound that rattled in his ears whenever he trained with Rithleen: clashing metal. Almost immediately after the sound rang out, a body flew out from behind a large boulder. The humanoid figure's race was impossible to determine, as it was completely encased within armor made of chitin. The chitin warrior quickly got back onto his feet, holding his steel shield, dirtied and dented, as well as a claymore made of adamantium. From behind the rocks came a tall, feminine figure, golden skinned, with pauldrons, bracers, and other armor pieces made of iron and bronze, and a headdress displaying huge Meri ears. She was casually walking toward the chitin clad person with a leisurely, patient gait, a long sword made of what looked like green glass loosely hanging in his dainty fingers. Raedyn's first impression was that it was a short female Altmer, but soon realized it was a Daedric Golden Saint.

The Dunmer took a step back, intending to leave the chitin warrior to deal with his own Daedra, and tripped on a rock, landing on his back hard.

Hearing the disturbance, the Daedra turned her head, and with a heavy, two handed swing, she nearly shattered the shield of the chitin warrior, cutting his shield bearing arm deeply, then kicked him, sending him stumbling back. The chitin warrior ended up falling back and rolling down the steep rocky road leading to Ald'ruhn. The Daedra turned and walked briskly toward the Dunmer.

"Burning Oblivion!" Raedyn cursed before pulling out his katana as he got to his feet. He hastily went through a mantra to calm his nerves and focus his mind.

The Daedra came in with an overhead swing, which Raedyn met with his netch shield; the moment of contact he pushed the blade to the side, and he lifted his katana to strike at her neck. The Dunmer realized they were too close together as she lifted her delicate hand and grabbed his wrist, staying his hand with a grip an Orc would envy. Acting on instinct, he moved in closer and head-butted her in the nose, not remembering that she was composed of Oblivion flesh, a substance thicker and harder than most kinds of wood.

His head bounced off hers, hurting himself more than her, but doing enough to make her release the grip on his wrist. His head cleared up enough to see her lifting her weapon again. They were still close together, and instead of getting away from her, he rushed forward, under her arched arm. He held his sword out, using his momentum to fuel the strike, and cut her arm, though it was too shallow to make any difference.

He stepped forward with his left leg, allowing him to look over his right shoulder, and see she was turning to strike with her sword arm. Instead of turning with the spin to block or strike her body, he turned and lashed his sword out at her relatively unprotected arm. This time, fueled by his body turning as well as hers, he cut cleanly through her sword bearing arm, sending it, and the glass sword, flying.

He expected that to stun her in some way, yet immediately after she lost her arm, the Daedra punched him in the face with her one remaining fist, sending him sprawling. She then walked over to her severed arm, and pried the long sword out of it's grip. As Raedyn got back to his feet, he saw the stump that had once been her arm wasn't bleeding at all; the inside didn't even look like flesh, just the same golden color as her skin.

The golden Daedra ran up to him and spun around to swing her sword at him. He met her strike with his shield, moving to the side to lessen the impact, yet it still made his arm buckle. He then turned, and seeing no other opening, cut her knee. She stumbled slightly, as her left leg could no longer fully support her weight, and using the brief distraction, knocked her one arm to the side, far enough away from her body to not allow a quick defense. Then using both hands, he swung his katana right between her shoulder and neck, hoping to at least cut down to her metal corset. The strike barely cut the tough skin. With no time to move away from the Daedra, Raedyn lunged forward, pushing her completely off her feet and to the ground.

With the Daedra on her back, Raedyn lunged forward, trying to drive his katana into her, yet with a flick of her wrist, her glass sword deflected his steel one, causing it to stab into the ground. Lifting her knee to her chest, she kicked the Dunmer away, leaving his sword embedded in the ground. She got onto her knees, and swung at the sword, shattering the blade.

As Raedyn got to his feet, he realized he was left with nothing but a battered netch shield, a few weak Destruction College spells, and the ability to conjure up a dagger. He needed to think!

The Golden Saint rushed toward him, sword raised high to strike him. He managed to deflect it with his shield, and with his free hand, cast Soul Trap on her face, the mist-like energies blinding her for a second as he wrapped his shield bearing arm around her remaining arm, holding it in place, and conjured a dagger in his free hand. Using all the strength he could muster, he plunged it into her breast, above the rim of her iron and bronze corset, where her heart should have been. The blade, made of an Oblivion substance far stronger than any earthly metal, met little resistance with the Daedra's flesh.

Instead of crimson blood gushing out, red light shined through the wound. Not taking the time to contemplate the light, he pulled the dagger out, and plunged it into her neck, and cut it out, severing most of her neck from her body. Crimson light poured from that wound as well, and her body soon went limp as whatever soul animating the body left it. A light came from the satchel at Raedyn's hip, telling him the Daedra's soul didn't return to Oblivion, but was trapped in one of his soul gems.

As the battle rush left him, he was no longer able to support what had been the Daedra's body, and let go of it, his body going limp as fatigue set in. His breath started becoming labored and sweat ran down his face. He then heard the sounds of footsteps on rocky soil, and turned to see the chitin warrior from before walking up the path to him. He was moving slowly, due to an apparent injury that left him limping, the deep cut on his arm no longer producing blood.

Raedyn didn't move from his sitting position on the ground, with the Daedra's corpse next to him, as the warrior knelt before him. "Are you injured, muthsera?" He asked, his gravely voice that of a Dark Elf.

"No…no, I don't think so." Raedyn said, trying to recall what happened during the fight. It was becoming a blur, and the details were eluding him. Had he been cut?

"Hmm, you seen to be alright, muthsera. Forgive my lack of assistance, but the Daedra cut my leg earlier, and despite my skill in the College of Restoration, it hasn't fully healed yet. But I was able to witness you fighting, and truly, you are skilled. It appears I underestimated your abilities. Forgive me for that."

Raedyn, feeling a fresh wave of sweat cross him, wondered who this Dunmer was. Most Dark Elves he came across since coming to Vvardenfell treated him with coldness, and never minced words. This one spoke with the elegance of an Imperial, yet his accent was unmistakably of Morrowind. "Who are you?"

"Oh yes, forgive the tardiness of my introductions. My name is Ayther Serethi, a Buoyant Armiger stationed at Ghostgate. Though I thank you for your help with the Daedra, I must apologize for it as well. Were it not for me, you would have not clashed with such a foe."

Raedyn's mind was becoming cloudy. "What do you mean?"

"My squad of Armigers and another squad of our friendly rivals, the Ordinators, went to Ramimilk after hearing that a cult of dark Daedra worshippers were there. We found them using invocations for Hircine, the Huntsman, and summoned a dozen Daedra, whom it seemed similarly enjoyed hunting. I, unfortunately, got separated from the others, and ended up here."

It took a few seconds for all that to set in with Raedyn, as it was getting harder for him to focus. "You're well spoken." He commented.

"But of course." The Ayther agreed, almost flamboyantly. "We Buoyant Armigers pride ourselves on emulating Lord Vivec's chivalric courtesy and subtle verse, as well as the love for adventure and honorable combat." Right then, Raedyn started swaying slightly. "Are you sure you're alright, muthsera?"

"Now that I think about it, I was bitten earlier by a cave rat. The bite mark burns like a flame atronach did it."

"Show me." The Buoyant Armiger ordered quickly. Raedyn took a moment to uncurl his leg from under him and pull up his pant leg to show the bandaging. Ayther gently took it off, and they saw the skin turning dark around the bite mark. "My friend, you have the blight disease."

"What?" Raedyn asked.

"Do not worry, sera, I'll take escort you to Ghostgate. We have a temple there. If the priests can't cure you, the alters can. Come." He held out his hand to help the Outlander up.

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Raedyn had agreed rather reluctantly. He was feeling a fever coming over him, but the walking helped him to bring back focus into his clouded mind. The Outlander Dunmer, seeing that his sword was irreparable, took the glass sword off the corpse of the Golden Saint. During their travel south and eventually southeast around the Ghostfence, Ayther explained to Raedyn what the Buoyant Armigers were.

"You said you answer directly to the Tribune Vivec himself." Raedyn mentioned. "Have you actually met him?"

"Yes, sera, a number of times." Ayther, now with his helm hanging off his belt, answered with a note of pride.

Raedyn believed in the divinity of this Tribunal about as much as he believed in the Nine, but he didn't want to alienate his benefactor. "What's he like?"

"Everything said of him and more." Ayther answered with a tone of awe in his voice.

Not wanting to continue the subject, Raedyn looked toward the Ghostfence, blocking the two of them from the heavy storms within. "Looking for something?" Ayther asked, noticing his companion's diverted interest.

"No…well, sort of." Raedyn then described the creature he saw from earlier.

Ayther sighed. "A most unsettling sight, I know, but merely a fragment of the monstrosities within. The creature you saw was once a man, but now carries the curse of Corprus, a most terrible disease wrought by the devil, Dagoth Ur. In centuries past, it was a rare incident, but in recent years, it has become more and more prominent. Many of the Ashlanders believe it is a sign of the coming of the Incarnate."

"The what?" Raedyn asked, looking for a way to distract himself from his burning leg and tiring body.

"You have heard of Nerevar Indoril, correct?" He got a nod from Raedyn. "The Ashlanders believe Nerevar will return. These beliefs are shunned by the Temple, for the Ashlanders believe Nerevar will cast down Almsivi as false gods. They are, of course, merely using the sainthood of Nerevar for their own ends in this matter, since Lord Indoril gave his blessings to the Temple at it's birth."

Raedyn suddenly became aware of a sort of howling, and as they grew closer to it, it sounded more like the howl of wind. As they walked through a valley between two colossal boulders, Raedyn saw a building built into the Ghostfence, with a gate in front spewing out winds heavily clouded with red dirt.

"Raedyn Otheril," Ayther spoke in an official tone, "welcome to Ghostgate."

Looking at the thick blight winds, Raedyn felt the howling become greater and greater in his ears, then, at the very edges of his hearing, he thought he heard a masculine voice speak:

_Nerevar…_

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Some time later, Raedyn left the Temple above the gate leading to Red Mountain, and walked into the Tower of Dusk. The priest Nilvyn Drothan successfully cured him of the Blight disease, and after a few minutes for his mind to be restored, he remembered to thank the priest, as his mother had always told him to. Now that he was out of prison and no longer a peasant, he was going to have to remember the manners his mother taught him. Though he was cured, the disease still left him drained.

As he entered the lobby of the tower, he saw nearly a dozen warriors in chitin armor just like Ayther's. He realized he had no way of knowing which was his benefactor, for as they traveled to the Ghostgate, he spoke of replacing his bad equipment as soon as they returned. "Uh, Ayther?" He asked loudly enough for his voice to carry across the room.

The nearest Armiger to him turned around and said to Raedyn, "He's in the lower level, talking to Dronos Llervu, the smith."

Raedyn nodded, and turned to leave, then remembered he had to thank people for helping him, something he never had any need to do back as a peasant in Cyrodiil, and awkwardly thanked the Mer.

In the lower section of the tower, below the lobby, he found the Armiger he was looking for talking to another Dunmer, this one clad in commoner's cloths instead of armor. Ayther turned to regard the intruder, and saw his traveling companion. "Ah, Raedyn. This is Dronos Llervu, master smith and Redoran retainer." He introduced. The two Dunmer wordlessly shook hands before Ayther continued, "Raedyn, I may have been mistaken, but did you not Soul Trap that Daedra?" The Dunmer gave an affirmative nod. "Well then, you must have a trapped Golden Saint in one of your gems?"

Raedyn pulled the grand soul gem from his satchel, glowing from the golden fire swirling within. "Yeah, I have one. Why do you ask?"

"Golden Saints are highly sought after souls for enchanting." Ayther explained. "I've talked with my friend Dronos here, and since you saved me from the Daedra, he's willing to give you a good deal for it."

Raedyn hadn't considered that he had 'saved' his benefactor, as he had tried to run away but was forced to fight, yet he kept his mouth shut. One thing the streets engraved onto him was never let opportunities go to waist.

Taking the soul gem, Dronos inspected it with an appraising eye. "It seems to be of good quality. The gem itself doesn't look flawed, so it should fetch at least seventy-five thousand drakes." At the mention of this price, Raedyn coughed in surprise. "I'll give you a good deal for this. Either that price, or fifteen thousand, plus a minimum set of glass armor. It'll go well with that sword of yours."

"Glass?" Raedyn asked, recovering from his surprise to regard his sword, and noticed several pieces of armor on the shelves were studded with similar pieces of green glass. "How does glass help armor?"

"This is volcanic glass from Red Mountain." Dronos explained, then pulled a half finished piece of armor from next to the forge. It looked to be part of the front of a cuirass. He then pulled an ebony mace from a crate, and started hitting the glass sections. The glass cracked as huge dents were formed from the onslaught, but it didn't break. It almost looked like hardened wax that was crushed but stayed whole. "Glass armor doesn't directly stop attacks, it disperses the impacts, as is the goal of virtually all light armor. The glass studs are meant to take the brunt of attacks while the alloy sections, which are designed after Altmeri ornate armor, distributes and directs impacts into the glass studs. While it's not as hardy, the glass studs are harder to cut through than steel, as they don't shatter. The studs are strategically positioned to protect against various strikes that would otherwise be lethal if not properly blocked. And as a bonus," the Dunmer smith picked up a pauldron who's glass sections were dented and highly jagged, and swung it into a wooden crate. The glass cut into the wood, imbedding the armor. "The armor itself, when damaged, can be used as a weapon as well. I do not exaggerate when I say Glass armor is the pinnacle of Dunmeri armor design, and that is why it's so expensive."

"What's a minimum set?" Raedyn asked.

"The boots, two pauldrons, two bracers, a cuirass and a shield. All that alone would be about as much as your soul gem, but I'm giving a discount because you helped my friend, so you'll get fifteen thousand as well."

"We have a deal." Raedyn quickly answered.

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Raedyn, now clad in Glass armor, stepped out of the Ghostgate's Tower of Dusk. In the Foyada, there was a small shelter nearby where a few Mers in golden armor, what Ayther had identified as the armor of the Ordinators, resided. The Armiger had said that it was often refered to as Indoril Armor, since so many Ordinators were from House Indoril. Several of the Mers had their helmets off, and were smoking from pipes.

Raedyn had left the tower to try out his new armor, which was surprisingly far lighter than it looked. Dronos had been kind enough to include a sheath for the Glass sword, as the scabbard for the katana wouldn't accommodate it. Now with shield and sword in hand, he started practicing, going through some drills that Rithleen had shown him. After some time, he got the feel of the new sword down, and began practicing different maneuvers, things that made sense, and felt natural to him.

He swung his shield, hinging at the elbow, in front of him, covering his front while stepping to the side, simultaneously blocking and avoiding the imaginary attack, then used the momentum of his spinning body to swing his sword out. Immediately, he pulled back, and spun the opposite way on his heals, bringing his sword from the right to the left to stab out where he had previously struck. He then stepped away, leaning entirely on one leg, swinging both sword and shield to the sides to deflect attacks.

He then moved forward onto his front leg, swung his shield out, and used the momentum to swing the sword in a whip-like arc. Then, while moving forward, jumped and spun, doing the same deflection with his shield and strike with the sword, using his falling bodyweight and spinning body to increase the power of the strike. He continued this spinning attack maneuver a few times.

"You!" One of Mers called to him. Raedyn stopped his practice, and as the excitement of trying out his armor dissipated, the exhaustion from earlier started to set in again.

The Ordinator walked across the expanse of the Foyada to him, his helm under one arm. "Where did you learn those moves, Outlander?" He asked, suspicion and aggression in his voice.

"How in Oblivion does everyone know I'm an Outlander?" Raedyn asked, angry at the Ordinator's unprovoked confrontational disposition. "Or is that how you greet everyone? I can see you calling your mother that."

The Ordinator sneered. "Your gait and mannerism show you're an Outlander, and you dare try to cover such up with our native armor. Who are you, and how do you know those techniques?"

"Why should I tell you?" Raedyn asked, fully ready to try his new armor in a real fight.

"You stole those moves from House Indoril!" The Ordinator snidely accused.

"Oh really?" Raedyn asked, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Claiming what you want as your own on a whim; if you represent your Temple faithfully, I should ask for my contributions returned."

The Ordinator quickly grabbed the mace hanging from a latch on his hip. "N'wah." He said lowly, almost in a growl. A moment later, another Ordinator quickly moved beside his comrade and placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"He's not worth it." The second Ordinator stated.

The first Ordinator glared at Raedyn, and after a few seconds, his posture straightened, and he latched his mace. "Scum." He said before turning and walking away.

Raedyn found he was disappointed the Mer hadn't started something. He turned and walked back into the Tower of Dusk. Inside, he found his Armiger friend.

"Ah, sera, that was quick." Ayther mentioned. "I thought you might enjoy taking down a few cliff racers. Almsivi knows a few won't be missed."

"I was distracted." Raedyn said, and left the subject at that. "Before I leave, I just wanted to say thanks for all your help."

"Don't mention it, muthsera." The Buoyant Armiger stated. "Part of chivalry is kindness repaid. You saved me, and I helped you. So you need not thank me, we are merely even."

"I also wanted to make sure," Raedyn said, "that the trail out there is Foyada Mamaca, right? If I follow it, I can get to Balmora?"

"Yes, sera, but I wouldn't recommend it. Unless you enjoy cliff racers." Ayther scoffed at the ridiculous notion. "If you use Almsivi's Intervention here, you'll end up in Ald'ruhn, and from there it's a cheap, but safe, Silt Strider ride to Balmora."

"Okay, I'll do that. Thank you, sera." Raedyn said, then left the Tower. Outside, he noted it was a few hours till dark. He went through a mantra to put him in a mindset that helps with the College of Mysticism. After a few attempts, he finally succeeded, and when he opened his eyes, he was back in Ald'ruhn.

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As night began to fall, Raedyn stepped off the Silt Strider, stretched tiredly, and started toward the Mage's Guild. It was a day-long assignment, but he found he was enjoying it, strangely. He gained a lot: money, armor, better understanding of Morrowind. If he could gain all that in one day, what would tomorrow bring?

As he made his way to the lower level of the Mage's Guild, he saw the Orc was there, still, getting some scrolls assorted. Most of the chapter members were already gone, yet she would probably sleep there again. "Journeyman Sharn." He called out, then held up the skull as he walked to her.

Sharn's eyes widened a little, both at the skull and his armor. "Took you long enough. What did you do, join the Temple and do a Pilgrimage?"

The Dunmer recklessly tossed the skull to her. "I fulfilled my part of the deal, now what about you?"

Very carefully, the Orc placed the skull on the table, and picked up a scroll, indiscernible from the others as far as he could see, and handed it to the Dunmer. "This is a summary I wrote of the cult. It should cover all you questions. Whatever they are." The last part she added on for emphasis.

"I have my reasons for wanting to know, okay?" He said as he took it and left.

0000000000

After buying an expensive dinner of Nix-hound steak with Kwama gravey and mudcrab chowder at the Eight Plates, while reading through Sharn's notes, Raedyn made his way to Caius's house.

Tired from the day's adventures, Raedyn decided not to barge in and face Caius's condescension, and knocked a few times, waiting for him to be admitted. As the door opened, the Imperial greeted the Dunmer with mild surprise at the new, expensive armor. "Ah, Raedyn. Please, come in."

As Caius shut the door behind his subordinate, Raedyn put the scroll on the table and said, "Here's the information on the Nerevarine-"

"We have things to discuss." Caius interrupted.

"What? I got the information." Raedyn said. "Is this about the armor?"

"This isn't about the armor, it's about how you went about getting the information." Caius said, angrily. "While you were gone, I talked to Ranis, and everyone in the guild was wondering why you suddenly became interested in the Nerevarine Cult. You can't ask people to talk about things for no reason. We're spies: secrecy and trust are our tools, and suspicion is our enemy. If people don't trust our intentions when gathering information, they will suspect us, and we can't have that. You should have given a reason for wanting to know about the cults!"

"And what would you have done, oh noble spymaster?" Raedyn asked, unbelieving that after all that work, he didn't get a word of praise.

"Off the top of my head? I would have said Hasphat was interested in extending his repertoire on Morrowind lore, or that a friend was a scholar-in-study, or that you were harassed by some Nerevarine Cultists and wanted to understand why, or simply for intellectual study. Any reason is better than no reason."

"And when were you going to tell me about this?" Raedyn asked, equally angry and insulted. "I'm sorry that I wasn't born into a society of liars, hypocrites, and blood money. Not all of us are that fortunate."

Caius inhaled sharply to retort, but held his tongue. "Raedyn," he continued on, in a softer tone, but still authoritative, "I do deserve part of the blame for not properly preparing you, but I expected you to use your mind a little more. I know you're not stupid, so I assumed you would think things through before acting. That's a virtue the Blades depend on." He saw his lighter tones were calming his subordinate down, even if just a little. "One thing that needs work on is your attitude. I don't understand your reasons for hating the Empire as such, so I won't tell you to believe otherwise, but you must learn to still your tongue. A lot of people in Morrowind aren't fond of the Empire, but there are enough supporters that badmouthing his majesty won't get on their good side. You can believe what you want, but you can't bring it up if it will causes trouble. I know you don't have a death wish, but saying such things recklessly _will_ get you killed eventually."

Raedyn crossed his arms, and broke his eye contact with Caius. Even in his anger, he knew the elderly human had a point.

"While you were gone," Caius explained, "I spent time thinking of ways to rectify this situation, and maybe get some essential training in. Tell me, Raedyn, have you ever gone fishing?"

"…No." Raedyn answered, confused.

"I was going to take you to Lake Amaya for a few days. During that time, while there won't be people around, I can train you in skills people shouldn't know about." Caius shrugged. "But since you've got that shiny new armor, I guess I'll delay the trip a few days so Rithleen can teach you a few things about how to employ it. Tell me Raedyn, how did you acquire it? And be honest."

Fifteen minutes later, Raedyn finished debriefing the spymaster, excluding the confrontation with the Ordinators. "Hmm, you had quite the adventure there, though I'm sure it won't be the last, and I might add you were lucky with the Daedra. I would suggest you spent some of that money buying clothing the same caliber as your armor."

"Why?" Raedyn asked.

"That armor is expensive, is it not? If people notice you're also wearing filthy commoner clothing, they will get suspicious, and trust you less. Having clothing the same quality of your armor will help you look like a profitable and successful adventurer, and people will trust you more. I'll take you to Lake Amaya in three days. Until then, think about your attitude, and what it gets you."

End of Chapter Three.

Author's Notes: I'm sorry for the long wait. For those who don't know me, I'm prone (extremely prone) to writer's block. The biggest delay was the scene with the Ordinator. I had the general idea of some kind of scuffle with one of them, as I didn't want them to just 'be there' in the story, I wanted the first encounter to be memorable in some way. I had a strong suspicion I would figure out what to do as soon as I got to the scene, and of course, after two weeks of building up the will to just wing it, that's what happened.

I also wanted to mention, I've never written a story like this. Not a novelization, but such a character driven story. Waiting three chapters before putting any real action in is a first for me. Well, there should be plenty to enjoy in the next chapter.


	4. Plots in the City of a God

Notes: It has come to my attention, of course AFTER I started this, a couple of discrepancies between my fic and Morrowind's storyline. Mostly stuff I overlooked. Such as Dunmer living long lives. I always assumed the wizards and such used magicks to live so damn long, but it seems, at least part of it, is that elves live long lives. It appears, according to one source who did his research (unlike myself), that Berenziah is 430 years old in the game. As such, let's consider Raedyn's twenty-six years to still be considered adult, but one can still be in their prime until 350 years old or so. Another thing I overlooked, though it doesn't really impact anything so far since I don't think I've written anything to the contrary, is that Vvardenfell Island was only opened to Imperial trade and settlement, thus the Outlanders, thirteen years prior to the start of the game.

**Chapter Four: Plots in the City of a God**

_11th Hearthfire, 427 3rd Era._

_For three days, Caius and I have traveled around Lake Amaya. His teaching is strict, and he's not as patient as Rithleen or Tyermaillin, but he's damn thorough._

"The skills you have to learn is something that can't be learned quickly, so working hard is paramount. Most Blades undergo years of combat, espionage, and intelligence gathering training before they're released into the field."

_The first day out here, I couldn't stop hoping the next exercise would prelude a break. He drilled me endlessly, giving me scenario after scenario for me to solve._

"Let us say a Hlaalu noble is rumored to be getting extra profit by creating large quantities of skooma, and is using his own private shipping lines to transport the supplies to the mainland, and keep the jokes about my sugar problem to yourself, thank you. Let's assume a recently passed Imperial law is preventing us from checking the shipping lines directly. How would you go about finding evidence?"

After a moment to mull over the question, Raedyn suggested, "Well, since morals and laws don't necessarily apply to spies, we could raid his manor and threaten him with torture if he doesn't tell us everything about the operation."

Caius sighed. "Suppose he talks, then one of two things will happen. The first: he'll change his operation plan so the information will become invalid, making it dangerous to go after evidence under what you learned. Second: if the information is enough to bring about a conviction, he'll who you are, and will know you as a spy. Even from prison, he can send people after you, and they won't be as merciful for information as you were to him. Try again."

Raedyn took a couple minutes thinking it over. "I guess I could try and find a disgruntled retainer, and maybe bribe a little information out of him?"

"That's a better idea, but it's still very risky. Why would you trust him? Disgruntled doesn't mean disloyal or traitorous. If he knows the information will get his lord arrested, he will be out of a job, and likely have people after him if they find out it was he who talked. Concurrently, he would likely gain from feeding you false information and letting his lord know who you are, thus having less reason to be disgruntled. Try again."

"Try and get into the operation?" Raedyn suggested.

"And how would you do that?"

"Well…just stating that I had heard rumors and saying I want in would be too obvious. I guess I could pretend to be a skooma dealer and talk to some retainers, and after some small talk or whatever business there is to discuss, mention that I got some skooma I could sell, and maybe if his lord was interested, ask him to put in a good word. Maybe I could wear clothing a little too expensive for what I claimed to be my profession."

"Good ideas, Raedyn." Caius said. "But there is one flaw: how do you know the noble is getting his skooma from regular sellers and not making it himself?"

Raedyn, sitting on a large boulder bordering the lake's shore, sulked. "I'm out of ideas."

"You must consider the evidence itself. If it's a large scale operation, there are likely records somewhere in his home. Finding those records can easily be a step to finding physical evidence. Another possible lead is the source of the skooma itself. Sugar itself is difficult to make, and buying from dozens of dealers would be extremely dangerous, as it only takes one being caught to ruin the entire operation. They likely make their own skooma and their own moon sugar, and operations like that could never be done in something as small as a Hlaalu Manor, as big as they are. Try and make some small talk, and maybe steer the conversation towards import/export of the compound. Find possibilities for how and where the skooma is being made, and go from there."

_My vocabulary has likely tripled just from Caius's explanations of word craft. I don't think I'll ever come up with a single oxymoron of my own, and I barely came up with three similes relevant to the subjects we talked about for practice. Yet halfway through the second day, it no longer became torturous. I began to notice I was making progress, even though it didn't feel like it, and my attitude completely changed._

"So, either way, I get away with my identity intact, and he gets busted. See, if we're arrested, I can use his money to pay my fines and penalties, while he'll be forced to be separated from his funds, thus he will go to court, and they'll realize this bust was just the crust of the bread. If neither of us are caught, then I can pass a tip to the officials about his secret cache, and since he has many former partners who no doubt know of the cache and can profit from his demise, he'll never suspect the tip came from me, a no-account smuggler who wouldn't gain anything from his imprisonment and the loss of the cache."

Caius smiled as Raedyn started making better and better plans.

_Before we left for the lake, Caius said I should consider my attitude. It's true, it's never gotten me anything other than trouble, but that doesn't change anything. He's never gone through what I was forced to endure for years. He doesn't understand, and that's why he can't tell me to change._

"If you're trying to make someone believe what you want them to, such as a plot or theory, the direct method of telling them of it is one of the worst methods of doing so. The best way to making them believe it is to have them create the theory themselves. Feed them clues, casually of course, and let them come up with the theory on their own. This way, it will seem like their idea, and less like an idea you're feeding them."

_Or maybe that's what I want to believe. Maybe I feed myself ideas, diverting myself from why I can't let go of my anger sometimes._

"Now, what you want to do is spin on the ball of your foot, reach down, swing your leg up and pull your foot back the moment before impact." Caius explained before demonstrating a kick intended for the head. Though he acted and moved like any old man in public, he was faster and more limber than most men half his age. "Now, take this to heart. Kicks are powerful when executed correctly, but they're slow and easy to see coming. Your opportunity for it is when they're stunned, such as hitting them in a sensitive area like the eye or just below the rib cage, what Healers call the Solar Plexus, when their reactions are slowed, they're off balance and slow to defend, or when you're in their blind spot or any other situation where they can't see you."

_Those days out there, in the middle of nowhere, by a beautiful lake, with no one around were, despite Caius's strict training, some of the most peaceful times I could remember. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't worried about where my food would come from, what errand I would be given next, and my fear of wide open spaces seemed to, at last, be gone. This is indeed a strange land. It's hostile, yet inviting. Cold, yet comforting. Harmful, yet I feel like I'm being healed. Everyday, I seem to find a moment of blinding clarity._

_Even writing this, I've done what I thought I couldn't do: I made an oxymoron._

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Two days after the two spies returned to Balmora, Raedyn had finished up his daily lesson with Tyermaillin, and was leaving the Altmer's home when Nine-toes 'casually' passed, and muttered, "Caius wants to see you."

Raedyn sighed. He had planned on spending the day in the Mage's Guild, as he was close to advancement, hence: better paying chores.

After being admitted into the elderly Imperial's home, Caius wasted no time. "I need you to go to Vivec and talk to a couple of informants."

"This about those two cults?" Raedyn asked.

"Yes. Before we left for our 'fishing trip', I had Fast Eddie do some research. The Sixth House Cult is a large enough operation that they need at least one base, and we have no idea where that may be. Eddie says there's a Khajiit in the Thieves Guild named Addhiranirr who is suspected of having past dealings with them. The second informant, Mehra Milo, is a member of the Dissident Priests, a sect of the Temple that's been exiled, which is said to have long lost information on the Nerevarine Prophesies. I want you to talk to her and find out what you can about these priests, mainly the nature of their dissension, but if you can find out more about the two cults from them, do so. She knows me, about us, so don't worry about a cover story."

"Why are they so important?" Raedyn asked. "Neither of these two groups so far seem to be plotting anything, especially against Morrowind or Imperial rule. Wouldn't our time be better spent looking for plots within the Temple? After all, they're the only ones who have the power to cause any trouble for the Empire."

Wordlessly, Caius walked over to his bed and sat on it. Though he didn't show it, he was surprised at how fast his subordinate caught on, and equally worried that the young Mer would find out the truth too soon. "Neither the Sixth House nor the Nerevarine Cult would've been worth investigating under normal circumstances. What caught our interest was the Temple's heavy persecution of these two cults. The Sixth House is easy to understand, but the Nerevarine Cult isn't so obvious. The recent upsurge in both groups as well as the Temple's persecution made the whole situation even more suspicious. Both cults are linked to the War of the First Council, and that's when we started noticing the links between them."

"I'll be honest with you Raedyn. Morrowind and Vvardenfell are in a very fragile state. The growing secession factions, the increasing strictness of the Temple doctrines, the prominence of the Dissident Priests, the unreasonable persecutions; all of these factors growing at the same time is a recipe for disaster. Soon or later, one of these groups will stop playing nice, and take matters into their own hands. When that happens, the most likely outcome will be complete civil war, reaching every corner and home in the province and beyond." Caius's explanation was truth enough. It was the reason why the Blades started the investigation, and the threat of civil war was very real.

Raedyn remained quiet, taking in this information. He hated to admit it, but for some time he had sensed something amiss on this island that he was starting to call home. There seemed to be an unspoken fear among the people, a general consensus that all should be prepared for something, yet no one seemed to know what that something was. Raedyn had a feeling he might be scratching the mere crust of what that something was, and the threat of civil war was that crust.

"Caius," he spoke hesitantly, "you said that understanding your gut instinct is an important skill. Well, my gut doesn't feel good about this. I hope I'm being paranoid here, but I think there's something more going on than we know about."

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The sense of displacement subsided as quickly as it built up, and Raedyn found himself in a different setting than the Mage's Guild's Balmora Chapter. He found an Altmer to his side, who welcomed him to Vivec city.

Since he was here solely for the information, he only wore two pauldrons and boots from his newly aquired armor collection and his sword, opting more for a casual wanderer's appearance, taking Caius's advice of better clothing. He wore a mildly expensive two layer shirt, the outer layer blue with some embroidery at the hems, open in the middle with golden knot buttons, exposing the white linen of the inner layer, two red gloves, and black pants.

As Raedyn ascended to the top level where the exit was, which confused him as to why it was on the top level, and stepped out of the guild, he was mildly shocked to find himself, not outside, but inside a large enclosure. It was the size of a small village, with a few dozen small buildings strewn about. After a few minutes to walk to one of the walls, while sifting through the crowds, he eventually found the exit.

After walking down a short flight of stairs, Raedyn found himself looking over the railing at a sea of still white ripples. At first, he thought it was a low, very thick fog, but when he saw a break in the white, he realized they were actually low clouds.

How was this possible? The only structure he had ever seen in Cyrodiil that compared to this was the Imperial Palace. He then remembered hearing about how annoying it was traversing from one Vivec Canton to another. He looked to the south, and stopped breathing for a moment when he saw, in the distance, poking above the clouds like carved mountains, the Cantons of Vivec.

He was glad he only had to find two contacts.

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Three hours later, Raedyn had scoured the numerous clubs of the Foreign Quarter, Redoran, and Hlaalu Cantons, finding members of the Thieves Guild. It had taken a while to find someone who would listen to him and not immediately dismiss him after realizing he was looking for one of them in particular. Raedyn racked his brain hard coming up with suitable stories as to why he was looking for the Khajiit for something other than payback, but eventually, one said she hung around the Saint Olms Canton's waistwork.

Half an hour later, Raedyn reached the canton in question, and entered the low ceiling waistwork. He talked to several people about Addhiranirr; it seemed she was well known, but no one had seen he all day, and that an Imperial was looking for her. By accident, he heard some children talking about going down into the Canal works. One of them said no one went down there unless they were trying to hide, as it was easy to get lost. Raedyn heard this, and he quickly came up with an idea as to the whereabouts of the Khajiit.

After searching around a little, Raedyn found an entrance to the Canals. Inside, it was dark, damp, and smelled awful. Raedyn quickly made a comparison between the sewers and an Ogrim's eggs if they went bad, assuming the bloated daedra laid eggs.

Raedyn moved quickly through the dank tubes, making sure not to fall into the murky water, and feeling more the need for a bath as he went deeper. After walking into another main line, void of any life besides whatever mildew and rats thrived in the environment, he considered quitting the search and look for a way out, when he suddenly felt a short sword press against his neck, the wielder behind him.

He heard a voice growl into his ear, "What does the prey want?"

"A friendly, civilized chat with a Khajiit: Addhiranirr." Raedyn answered, nervously. "Maybe you've heard of her? And maybe a clean pair of pants, if you can spare it."

"And what would this one want with her?" The female Khajiit asked, disregarding the joke.

"A little mutual benefit. I want some information which she might know, and I'm willing to give her something in return. Just casual business."

"Addhiranirr might listen. What can this one say?"

"The Sixth House Cult." Raedyn explained, feeling the sweat starting to subside. "I've heard you might know a few things about them. I can pay for the information, if you desire."

"Addhiranirr not care for trinkets or gold." The Khajiit explained, pulling the chitin blade away from the Dunmer. "Khajiit cannot trust any stray dog's word, but she cannot leave Canal works. Horrible down here; wet, cold, and smell will kill faster than any other."

"Why are you stuck down here?" Raedyn asked, getting to what he believed the subject was leading to. She still remained in his blind spot.

"Imperial tax collector. Imperials not like smugglers, and taxmen like us worse. Get him to leave, and I'll leave as well, travel to another den. Does the prey understand?"

"Indubitably." Raedyn answered. A moment later, he turned around, and was met with only the dark, moldy walls. _She's good._ He thought.

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After maneuvering his way back to the waistwork, and breathing the blissfully refreshing air, he walked into the main foyer, looking for any well dressed Imperial. It seemed there were fewer Imperials per outlander capita here in Vivec, so it seemed a good bet that the bald Imperial, holding his head high in a regal manner, in a robe both extravagant and business-like, was his tax agent.

Raedyn walked a path that would have him 'casually' pass the human, where he would ask about Addhiranirr. As chance had it, the Imperial saw the Blades spy, and approached him. "Excuse me, dear Dunmer, but," he abruptly stopped talking and stepped back, his hand over his nose.

"Huh?" Raedyn asked, then realized where he had been, and that he likely had some of the smell clinging to him. "Oh, sorry about that." He then thought of a good excuse for talking about the Khajiit. "I was in the Canal Works a minute ago, looking for a friend of mine. Thought she might be down there."

"I see." The human replied, keeping a more than respectable distance. None of the other denizens of the canton seemed to mind Raedyn's stench. "Well, my name is Duvianus Platorius. By chance, your friend wouldn't be named Addhirannir, would she?"

Raedyn tried his best to act genuinely, 'mildly' surprised by this. "Yeah. You know her too?"

"Yes, well…we know each other through business." Duvianus answered.

_Business indeed._ Raedyn noted the play on words._ Typical Empire wordplay. Imperial prick._ "Well, in that case, do you know if she's back yet?" When he saw the expectedly confused look on the Imperial's face, he continued, "I take it that's a no. They're keeping her longer than usual today."

"Who?" The Imperial asked.

"Oh, she's had some kind of business over in the Hlaalu Canton for some time now."

"I see." Duvianus said, obviously trying to be patient and hide his excitement. An Imperial's skill with words didn't add to their acting talent, it seemed. "Well, I have to wrap up my business quickly, so you wouldn't happen to know _where_ in the Canton this 'business', you speak of, takes place?"

This was it. Hopefully his planned story would convince the man. "The man she works with is part of the Hlaalu Treasury, I believe. Don't know what use they would have for a Khajiit, to be honest." _Come on, take the bait._

Duvianus's brow furled as he thought about that. Raedyn had to stop himself from smiling as the Imperial seemed to catch the line. He remembered what Caius told him about how to lead one to believe what you wanted them to believe. Living in Balmora for over two weeks, Raedyn had heard of the suspicion the Empire had of Hlaalu being less than truthful with their taxes, and hiring Thieves Guild members.

"Thank you. I'll tell her you said hello." Duvianus said, bowing, and leaving. Raedyn had to stop himself from laughing at that statement, since he never gave the Imperial his name to begin with.

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Back into the dank, dark, rancid, repugnant, rat infested, and unusually accessible Canal Works, Raedyn was barely off his ladder when he saw a female Dunmer talking to a Khajiit, who looked feminine from what he could tell, in Chitin Armor. As he started to approach the duo, the Dunmer finished saying whatever it was she was going to say, and started toward the ladder Raedyn just got off of. As she was about to pass the male Dunmer, she stopped and said, "Thank you for your help, sera." With that, she continued and began climbing the ladder.

Turning his attention to the Khajiit, Raedyn asked, "Wouldn't trust my word alone?"

"Khajiit not live this long if she believed the word of strangers. We don't walk into traps." Addhiranirr answered.

"Does the Khajiit trust the Dunmer now?" Raedyn asked.

"No." She answered simply.

"Is the Khajiit willing to talk?" He tried. He was starting to catch onto her method of speech. It was slightly different than most Khajiit.

"No." She answered. "Addhiranirr cannot talk to others while leaving Canton. All she can do is talk aloud to herself."

"Oh." Raedyn stated, a smile creeping onto his face. "That's unfortunate. I'm leaving for the Silt Strider service outside the city. Who knows, we may be going to the same place." He was starting to like these word games.

Addhiranirr purred. "This one knows his words and manners well." The two of them soon left the Canal Works.

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As the Dark Elf and Khajiit were circling the monolithic Foreign Quarter, Addhiranirr spoke up. "That silly Dunmer back in the canals wanted to know about strange things." She said, seemingly to herself. "Addhiranirr wondering why silly Dunmer look for Sixth House."

Taking up the same tone of speaking to himself, Raedyn 'answered', "I wonder what that paranoid Khajiit would think if she knew I was merely a concerned citizen with some experience as a Telvanni Enforcer, who had seen some of the work those cultists have done."

"That silly Dunmer also seemed pretty foolish. Sixth House not exist in this world, only in fairy tales, meant to scare little kittens."

"I thought I had heard that they 'don't exist in this world'. I wonder if that was a riddle."

"Sixth House live not in our world, but the underworld of smuggling." She seemed to hiss. "For nearly seventeen years now, those dogs hid with us, spreading rabies and worse along with words and dreams. Horrible, horrible dreams. Enough to make Khajiit's hackles snap. Addhiranirr smart, she ran. If that Dunmer smart, he run as well, run fast."

She spoke with a heated passion. Whatever she witnessed among them, it clearly scared her bad. He waited a minute before continuing, "Where are their bases?" Seeing her mood, he dropped the evasive word play.

"No base stays still long. All cultists Dunmer, and all answer to Dunmeri named Dagoth. That all Addhiranirr knows."

He still got more information then he expected. He knew Caius would be satisfied with this, and that it would start in motion action to find the bases on Vvardenfell. When they reached the broad bridge leading to dry land, Addhiranirr stopped, and without looking to her companion, said, "If Dunmer smart, Dunmer stay far, far away from Sixth House. Muthsera find horrors beyond imagination. Once seen, one can never be free again." She then continued on toward the land.

As he turned to return to the city, Raedyn got a horrible gut feeling he was going to, inevitably, face this horror Addhiranirr spoke so fearfully of.

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Stepping into the Library of Vivec from the Hall of Wisdom, Raedyn saw shelves and shelves of books, and half a dozen Ordinators. After seeing Addhiranirr off, he took a quick dip in the water to get rid of the stink of the sewers. He walked the entire length of the massive city to the Temple, letting himself dry from movement and sun. He knew he looked less presentable, with his clothes now wrinkled from their crude way of drying off, and his hair hugging his scalp, but at least he didn't smell of the sewers.

Taking Caius's advice to try and memorize the surroundings, in this case, the categorization of shelves, he casually strode through the library, 'casually' looking at everything. Soon, he saw what Caius had described to him: a Dunmer Priestess with coppery hair, looking at a book she took off a shelf.

He took note of one shelf in a corner with fewer Ordinators nearby, with a tapestry marking that section of the library as 'Daedra invocations and worship'. After noting this, he walked to the other side of the shelf Mehra Milo was standing next to, and started looking through books.

After a few minutes, the priestess asked, "Excuse me, but are you looking for something in particular?"

"Yes." He answered. "The Invocations of Azura. Do you know where I can find it?" She signaled for him to follow her. She lead him to the secluded section of the library he predicted the book would be in.

"These books should be in alphabetical order." She informed him. "But not everyone who comes through here, even the priests, always returns them where they belong."

"Actually," Raedyn quietly said, "I was looking for you, Mehra."

She crossed her arms, looking insulted. "Is this a crass come-on? I'm not impressed with random Mer in uncouth clothing that stinks of seawater, and…how do you know my name?" She asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I managed to overhear it from the Cosades, I mean, cascades of fans you have, who watch you behind your back." He answered, giving her the hint of who he really was.

Mehra's eyes averted slightly to check their surroundings. When she was sure the Ordinators weren't near them, she said, "Your…'Blades' of wit are sharp as ever. Tell me, how is the old Imperial doing?" She asked, acknowledging she knew who he was.

"Same as ever." He answered. "As one of your 'distant admirers', I'd like to know more about you. Why are 'you' the way your are? Your opinions, view points, reasons for being the way you are." He was asking her for information on the Dissident Priests.

"You're not the only 'distant admirer' I have around here." She stated. "They might notice if I pay too much attention to one of my fans."

_So they suspect her._ Raedyn deciphered. "Do you have a, uh, 'biography', or 'memoir' I can pick up for reference?"

"There's a book here in the library, _Progress of Truth_, you might want to check." She pointed to a shelf on the other side of the library. "Good luck checking it out though, I doubt they'd let you. But, I'm sure they wouldn't miss it, regardless." It took a moment for him to understand she was suggesting he steal it. _Good luck, eh? I'll need it._

"Will you contact me again?" She asked.

"Probably." He answered. "From now on, we'll contact you under a different name…Amaya." He thought of that name on the fly, named after the lake.

She nodded, and then left, returning to her previous spot to continue reading. As she did that, Raedyn continued to casually stroll around the library, occasionally looking at books and reading a few pages as he tried to work out a method of taking the book out of the library. If he only had his Glass Cuirass on, he might be able to smuggle it out in that, but as it was, there was no way he could hide a book on him, and no way he could get to one of the numerous exits unseen. After going through a list of his assets, he realized he didn't need one of the doors to leave.

After waiting some time, gradually moving over to the shelf in question, waiting for a time when the Ordinators shifted away from his target, Raedyn heard mild curse as several books crashed on the ground loudly. He turned and saw Mehra holding a couple books while several were at her feet. It took him a second to realize she had caused a distraction for him.

Right then, as the Ordinators' attention was averted, he moved, not too fast, to the shelf in question, and quickly skimming through the books, found _Progress of Truth_. Picking it up, he knelt down, so the shelf hid his entire body, and cast Almsivi's Intervention on himself. He quickly stood up, standing just outside the arch of the High Fane in Vivec. He likely hadn't traveled more than fifty feet. At least no one witnessed his exit.

He took a breath in, and as he was exhaling, he realized it was much darker outside than when he entered the Halls of Wisdom. Ten minutes ago, it was all clear, sunny skies. Now the city was darkened by heavy storm clouds._ What's going on?_

Looking to the south, where the massive Temple of Vivec stood, he saw a congregation of priests and priestesses. Curious, he walked under the arch of the High Fane to them. When he reached them, he saw two figures at the top of the stair-case leading to Temple, with a line of Ordinators blocking all entry onto the stairs. Straining his eyes to peer at the two people at the top of the Temple. One of them was a bald Dunmer wearing a blue heavy robe. The other, Raedyn wasn't sure his eyes weren't deceiving him, looked nearly naked, half his body the ashen sleight gray of the Dunmer, with the other half of his body golden.

"What's going on?" He asked one of the priests.

The man looked at him with distain. "Watch, Outlander, and witness the fury of the God-King and Warrior-Poet of the Tribunal, Lord Vivec."

Suddenly, the deafening boom of thunder blasted out, lightning bolts flashing from the skies above. Originating from above the temple, the streams of light blasted outward, traversing the dark sea of clouds until they were gone from sight. As the echoes of the rolling thunder subsided, the clouds above started to move, spinning and swirling around the apex above the Temple, until that apex opened up, creating the eye of the storm, illuminating the two figured within a golden beam of light.

Raedyn, unable to take his eyes from the sight, felt droplets of rain hit his hair. Within seconds, all within the city were caught in a torrential downpour. Suddenly, the rain stopped, and the figure of Vivec struck the Dunmer in front of him, sending him flying a hundred feet through the air. Visible magicka gathered around the Mortal-God, and a blast of rainbow energy shot from his outstretched hand, striking the flying Mer.

Crimson flames expanded and the clashing of thunder reverberated, and soon, it all imploded, sending out a cloud of white frost. Nothing but a few wisps of smoke remained of the Mer who suffered Vivec's wrath.

Moments later, the clouds lightened, turning pristine white, and gashes formed on the clouds above the city, beams of golden light illuminating the dark. Then, the figure of Vivec disappeared from sight, and the clouds slowly dissipated.

"Do you believe what you see with your own eyes, Outlander?" The same priest from before asked, almost in a mocking tone. "Know what you witnessed was divine, and accept the true faith of the Dunmer, accept the gods of the Velothi." The Priest left him there, staring at the Temple.

Thousands of thoughts raced through Raedyn's head: attempts to rationalize what he saw as some illusion, yet the rain still on his body…

He was broken from his reverie when a rough hand grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him away from his spot with such force he nearly fell to the ground. Regaining his balance while moving with the grip, he found the hand belonged to a golden armored Ordinator. "What's the meaning of this?" Raedyn asked.

"You stole something that doesn't belong to you." The gruff Dunmer voice replied.

In a mild panic, Raedyn began the process of using an Intervention spell to escape the grip, but immediately after he began, it ended as a gauntleted fist slammed into his stomach, depraving him of breath. As the world started to spin, he was loosely aware of him being thrown over the railing of the High Fane's top level. He skidded across the steep wall leading to the bottom level fifteen feet below, and slammed into the ground.

At that point, he dropped _Progress of Truth_. As he slowly pushed himself to his feet, he saw the Ordinator land some distance away from him in a kneel, having jumped from the upper level. He stood up, as if the fall didn't bother him at all, he pulled an ebony mace off the latch at his belt.

"Isn't this…a bit excessive?" Raedyn asked, coughing as he spoke. "Can't I just pay a fine or do some jail time?"

"You did well, using that distraction in the library to leave. If only you knew I had my eyes on you ever since you first stepped in." He began taking off his golden helm, "I knew Lord Vivec would reward my devotion by allowing me to meeting you again." He revealed his face, the face of the Ordinator who nearly started a fight with him at the Ghostgate.

Raedyn felt the blood leave his face. Oh why did he leave his armor back in Balmora? He had heard how fearsome Ordinators were in a fight. "Can we go through this without a fight?"

The Ordinator hefted his mace to get a better grip of it. "First, I'll show you what happens when Outlanders use crass imitations of Indoril fighting styles!" The Ordinator charged and swung the ebony weapon with a back-swing.

On instinct, Raedyn collapsed his legs under him, falling to the ground. Leaned on his right side, and with his left leg tucked in on top of his right, shot his right leg out, kicking the Ordinator in the pelvic region. Though the attack didn't hit in the crotch, it forced the Ordinator's hips back, throwing him off balance. With this momentary distraction as the holy warrior tried to regain his balance, Raedyn spun his legs around in a whirlwind motion, and with the built up momentum, his Glass armor boot connected solidly with the Ordinator's exposed head.

Rolling back onto his feet, Raedyn put a hand on his sword's hilt, but hesitated. He lost nearly a third of his life due to rushing into a fight. In that moment of hesitation, the Ordinator, who was slumped over, pounced, tackling the former prisoner to the ground so suddenly, his head bounced off the stone walkway.

Disoriented, Raedyn was barely aware of the Ordinator on top of him, lifting his mace to bash his head in. Though he was barely aware of the danger to him in a logical sense, his gut-feeling told him he had to act. Quickly forming a weak fireball in his hand, he shot his palm at the Ordinator's chest. The small explosion singed Raedyn's shirt lightly, and his skin even lighter, due to the heat resistant Dunmer skin, but was enough to knock the Ordinator off him. The blast of heat hit Raedyn's eyes hard, sending blinding pain through his head.

Forcing the pain aside, the Dunmer looked through blurry, watery eyes, and saw the Ordinator getting back to his feet slowly. With a burst of strength, Raedyn got to his feet as well, and grabbed the Ordinator's mace-wielding arm. The two struggled over the weapon fiercely, until the defending Dunmer saw the other rearing back for a head-butt. Suddenly, Caius's lessons kicked in, and Raedyn leaned his head forward at the last second, and the Ordinator's mildly tough forehead connected hard with his opponent's hard-boned crown.

The Mer recoiled from suddenly hitting something so hard, and Raedyn used the opportunity to use another technique Caius taught him. Throwing out his fist, he curled his fingers as if making a fist, except he held the fingers from the first to second knuckles straight out. Making this unusual fist, he raked his second knuckles across the Ordinator's exposed eyes.

Seeing the Mer stumbling back in pain, Raedyn spun on the ball of his foot, swung his other leg up, and kicked the Ordinator hard in the head. He fell on the ground, and stayed there, dazed and mumbling.

Raedyn again grabbed the hilt of his sword, but once again, hesitated. Killing the Ordinator would only make the situation worse. If the Mer lived, at worst, he would be wanted for assault, and since he didn't start the fight, the Ordinator might not even report it. Concurrently, if the Mer died, Raedyn might never get caught, but if he did, no one would ever know he was the victim.

These thoughts rushed through his mind, and he decided the risk wasn't worth it. He quickly knelt beside the Ordinator, grabbed the ebony mace, turned, and ran.

Suddenly, Raedyn's leg froze and went numb. He stumbled onto his knees and landed on his hands, barely stopping himself from landing chest first on the mace in his hand. Looking over his shoulder, Raedyn saw the Ordinator, with the faint afterglow of magic surrounding his outstretched hand, lethargically getting to his feet.

Raedyn thought the Paralyze spell would wear off quickly, but it stayed. Seeing the Ordinator pick up his helm and put it on, the young Mer turned his head away, fighting off panic while slowly crawling away with only his arms, not daring to look back. Moments later, he felt an armored hand grab his shoulder roughly.

In a last desperate move, Raedyn used one arm to spin around, and with a guttural yell, swung the mace out. The heavy, spiked weapon smashed the laminated insect shell Indoril helm, hitting the Ordinator's face hard, knocking him to the ground.

Raedyn quickly shuffled away, the paralysis in his leg fading. He inhaled sharply when he saw the mace still on the Mer's face, it's spikes piercing skin and bone, pinning broken armor to the Ordinator's head. He seemed to still be alive, his breath rapid and shallow, his body and hands twitching in extreme pain and shock. He reached a hand up to the mace, but recoiled the moment his finger's brushed the weapon's handle.

Steeling himself, Raedyn picked up the book he stole and ran. He had to get out of Vivec, and hopefully, he wouldn't have to come back for a long time.

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Archpriest Tholer Saryoni, Archcanon of Vivec, watched with detached interest as the three House Hlaalu Councilors residing within the city discussed the matter of the Temple's influence on the Great House's commerce and treaties with the Empire with Lord Vivec himself. He had been in service to Vivec for over a hundred and fifty years, and over that century and a half, he had started to believe things never really changed. That was not why he barely paid attention to the ramblings of the pretentious Councilors and their petty problems. In the last ten years, things did change.

Sotha Sil hadn't been seen in several years, and word from Mournhold was that Almalexia was becoming oppressive, even using fear to ensure the loyalty of the faithful. Greater than these words was what he saw with his own eyes from Vivec himself. The Man-God was becoming secretive, reclusive, distant. His normal displays of power continued, but with the advent of the Dissident Priests, his actions didn't seem to make sense. Before, when groups questioned his legitimacy, he took it upon himself to prove them wrong, even those few times it stemmed from within the Temple. Yet now, he wished every one of those priests condemned to the Ministry of Truth without trial, without bothering to prove them wrong. In times like that, the Ordinator's unquestioning devotion and loyalty left fear in the hearts of the people, and for the life of him, Tholer couldn't understand the change in his Lord's heart.

If Vivec had been any mortal, any normal Man or Mer, he would have thought the Man-God panicked, afraid and desperate. If that were the case, then Saryoni feared the real reason for this behavior being that there was truth in the teachings of the Dissident Priests, and Vivec feared the common Mer knowing that truth.

"You are dismissed." He heard his Lord command. As the Dram Bero, Yngling Half-Troll, and the ever eccentric Crassius Curio left, Archcanon bowed before Vivec as the mostly naked Man-God floated in the air, crossing his legs.

"Lord Vivec, if there is nothing else needed of me, I shall take my leave."

"Prithee, stay Saryoni." He requested. "How goes the injuries and remedying of Disciple Feras Letheli?"

Tholer bowed again as he answered, "My subordinates tell me it will take time for Ordinator Feras's injuries to fully heal, even with their skill in the Restoration arts. His jaw is healed enough for him to speak, and he is currently with an artist, discussing the visage of his attacker." He wasn't sure why Vivec had taken such an interest in the fallen Ordinator's brutal attack. It wasn't uncommon for Ordinators to be targeted. "Soon, we will have drawings of the heathen, and all in Vivec will know his face, and so will all Buoyant Armigers."

"Refrain from that last act." Vivec decisively, but calmly, ordered. "An Armiger's sword is meant for the great and true evil, not for the petty blood of a small criminal." He paused there. Whether for emphasis, or from hesitation, Saryoni didn't know. "For dirty blood requires a dirty hand."

"What do you mean, m'Lord?" The Archcanon asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"Those of our Holy order need not venture to this heathen's dark path if we can simply block it. Saryoni, my loyal servant, I believe it is time for our word to reach the Morag Tong."

Saryoni swallowed a dry throat. In a century and a half, only twice before had the Man-God employed the services of the ancient assassin's guild. Those were among the few times a true threat was apparent to the Temple. To sic the Morag Tong on this one criminal…

"I have seen this Dunmer, and I know his name is Raedyn Otheril. Saryoni, when the artist finishes, leave to meet Eno Hlaalu with the portrait and name."

_No…_Saryoni thought. _Tribune Vivec would never use such a force on some lowly filth. There is no doubt, that young Dunmer must be more than he appears to be._

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Author's Notes: I'm sorry for the long delay. Between Dirge of Cerberus (which absolutely, positively does **NOT** suck) and DMC: Dante's Awakening (bought it on impulse. Couldn't resist playing as Vergil), and going through a few strokes of creativity in regards to a possible Legend of Dragoon fanfic, I haven't been interested in writing. For those of you who didn't know me before this fanfic, I'm extremely prone to long periods of writer's block.


	5. Revelations

Note: To everyone who's read the story and had to put up with this recent delay, I guess sorry isn't all I should say. My current computer is totally crap, and like it says on my profile, I'll be getting a new one in a week or two. But for now, since Microsoft Word isn't working, I'm using WordPad. Oh the horror! If there's a difference in how this chapter looks, that's why.

**Chapter Five: Revelations**

Eno Hlaalu sat at his desk, pondering the poor soul he was about to write a writ for. After fifty years of climbing the ranks and earning a reputation equally famous and infamous, he attained the rank of Grand Master of the Morag Tong, a position he has held onto for nearly a hundred years. No longer the executioner of writs, he was the scribe. Private executions, public executions, and even House Wars, he had done them all. Redoran rarely employed them, as the proud warriors often did the killing themselves, but Hlaalu was a frequent employer.

Then there was the Telvanni. Every single Telvanni he ever met placed virtually no importance on life except their own; murder and assassination was perfectly fine in their inward, backward customs. He had banned all official deals with them decades ago, as they hired them too often, and too often as well the targets would be one of the millennia-old Telvanni wizards who could conjure up a small army of greater Daedra while suffering from a bad cold. Those agent rarely came back. Though due to the ban, Eno often worried that the Telvanni may resort to the Dark Brotherhood.

Unlike the Dark Brotherhood, the Morag Tong had priciples, morals, and restrictions. If a man or Mer was, for all extents and purposes, proved guilty of murder but used legal loopholes to go free, or someone committed a great injustice that was within legal perimeters but caused great suffering or death, or any other justice the law couldn't deal, that was when they were used. That was what their codes were based around: honorable execution.

When Vvardenfell became open for trade, the guild opened up the first chapter house on the island since the first council. But there was a condition for their occupation, all contracts from the Temple must be carried out, no questions asked. The Temple coming to them was among the few things that caused Eno Hlaalu to feel more like the disreputable cut-throat he always claimed he wasn't.

_Raedyn Otheril..._He thought despondently, going over the name in his head. The Dunmer was reported as being able to handle an armed Ordinator barehanded and unarmored. Though there were several members of the guild who were that good, his skill and ability wouldn't matter if he were never aware of his enemy.

In this rare case, he would write two writs, and give them to two _Knower_ ranked members. Though they usually worked alone, two Morag Tong assassins working together exponentially increased their ability. And he knew two _Knowers_ who were perfect for this job.

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In a Silt Strider en route to Ald'ruhn, blissfully unaware of the preparations being finalized to end his life, Raedyn read _Progress of Truth_ almost feverishly. He was almost desperate to put an answer to the display he saw in Vivec, but while the book shed a whole new light on those events, the light was dim at best. If Dagoth Ur was as real as the Mer-God he saw, and was possibly more powerful, possibly becoming more powerful, this disaster far, far overshadowed the societal collapse Caius had predicted. What had been a lingering fear became a virtual terror. Ever since Vivec three days earlier, he never went outside without his sword and glass armor.

He was never one to place faith in superstition or religion, but he began to hope dearly that there was truth in the Nerevarine Prophesies. As the book in his hands began to talk of the over abundant power and discretion the Temple gave the Ordinators, he was suddenly beset by foul smelling dust.

"Hey, driver!" He called, swiping the dust away from him, "What's with the dust?"

"Blight Storm." He answered, disdainful of his Outlander passenger. "Don't complain yet, we've only reached the edge. Welcome to Morrowind."

As they entered the last hour of the three-hour ride, Raedyn learned how true that statement was. Within minutes, Raedyn couldn't read the book in his hands, and the winds carrying the dust became loud and constant, while the dust not only burned his eyes, but his lungs and even his skin. He quickly realized this was not simple dust or ash. It felt...there was a foulness within the dust and ash that was almost palpable.

Eyes heavily squinted and his hand over his mouth, the rest of the ride took far too long. Raedyn was glad when the Silt Strider finally came to a complete stop, but was shocked and even distraught when he discovered the storm was far worse outside the safety of the shell. On the tiny platform nearly ten meters above the ground, the winds nearly blew Raedyn off, and he was forced to stay crouched as he descended down the unnecessarily thin walkway to the distant ground.

When he reached ash-and-dirt ground, Raedyn took his squinting and burning red eyes off the ground at his feet and tried to find a tavern where this Hassour Zainsubani might be staying, finding that he couldn't see more than ten feet in front of him, at most. When Raedyn and Caius first learned from Fast Eddie that the Urshilaku Ashlander Tribe were avid followers of the Nerevarine Prophesies, the Dunmer was confused with the elderly Spymaster's decision to find an Ashlander informant and learn Ashlander customs. Now, as he walked the streets of Ald'ruhn in a Blight Storm worse than he ever imagined, he swore he would beat the old Imperial bloody if this investigation was merely a hunch.

As he searched through the town, his exposed skin burning and nearly blind, hoping he wasn't walking out of the town into the vast, directionless ashlands, he eventually found a Redoran Guard who directed him to the Ald'Skar Inn, and recommends a Chitin Helmet for the Storm. As the Guard led him, Raedyn entertained the thought, for a moment, of forcefully ripping the heavily clothed guard's helm off and running off with it.

When they reached the Inn, Raedyn gave a hasty thanks and ran in. Inside, without bothering to close the door behind him, when clean air hit his lungs, he succumbed to the urge to double over and release a coughing fit. After a minute, when his lungs no longer burned, he rose up, still slight hunched, to see only a few patrons looking his way, and noticed that someone closed the door for him, not wanting to let the Storm in.

Trying to restore a little of whatever dignity he lost in his entrance, he straightened his back, and walked up to the Innkeeper behind the bar, and asked about any Ashlanders in the area. "Yes, one named Zainsubani." He answered. "He's downstairs, probably enjoying the last of the Cyrodiilic Brandy I sold to him."

As Raedyn traveled down the stairs, he hastily tried to wipe some of the dust out of his hair, face and armor. He found that people really did take him more seriously when he wore his expensive armor and fine clothing. He soon found the Mer in question, standing and leaning against the far wall, dressed in Netch armor, sipping from a glass of some kind of alchohol, apparently enjoying the peace in the tavern while the storm raged outside.

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After some idle banter and a few drinks, Raedyn 'confessed' that he was looking for Zainsubani to learn about the Ashlanders and their customs. Claiming he was seriously considering becoming a merchant like him, he believed he could become successful by becoming a trading medium between the Ashlander tribes and the Imperial settlements, with the additional, more personal benefit of learning of his 'roots in Resdayn', now that it was open to Imperial trade and settlement.

They talked for a couple hours, with Raedyn, very careful not to drink too much while taking notes. The younger Dunmer had no idea Ashlander customs and honor was so complex. When they were satisfied that Raedyn could enter and leave a camp without causing a major offense, they parted ways, with the Ashlander retreating to his room, and the Blades operative heading for the exit. He discovered, despondently and somewhat shocked, that the Blight Storm was still in full force, he decided to stay the night at the Inn, since night was steadily approaching.

That night, Raedyn slept uneasily. Every time he started to wander to sleep, he heard laughter at the edges of his hearing, which would awaken him, until his tiredness finally took him into a forced slumber. That was when the nightmare began.

He was in an emtpy grand Hall, the walls and ceiling a hundred feet apart and high, the opposite wall twice as far away, made of smooth resin and clay, embroidered in gold. Dozen-foot-high murals depicting what looked like Altmers, with a group of defectors, lead by the Daedra prince Boethiah. In further murals, it showed the defectors, as they faced challenge after challenge, gradually change into what Raedyn realized were the Chimer, the progenitors of the Dunmer, and how Mephala taught them how to defend themselves. Further down, the murals depicted what Raedyn believed was Molag Bal's machinations of eugenics upsetting the Chimer bloodlines, presumably bringing about the dark skin the Velothi wore today.

As he gazed upon the history of the Dunmer, he was suddenly aware of a hand on his shoulder. Surprised, he spun around, and found a Chimer standing behind him. Tall and strong for a Dunmer, but too short for an Altmer, he wore the most exquisite of crimson and burgundy robes, with a golden mask encompassing his entire head. "Welcome." He spoke in a clear, regal baritone, a voice no Dunmer's course voice could have made. "Or should I say: welcome back?"

Raedyn wanted to say something, ask who the Mer was, where they were, but nothing came out. He found he had no control over his body, leaving him merely an observer gazing out to watch this dream unfold.

_A dream? Is this a dream?_ His mind clouded, and he could not find an answer to that. Soon, finding an answer became irrelevant, and he forgot all about the question.

"Relax, my friend. For you _are_ my friend, now and always before." The golden masked one said. The Chimer began to walk down the hall, and Raedyn found himself powerlessly following, though he wondered why the loss of control was necessary. He would have followed this Mer regardless. Why shouldn't he?

As they walked, the Chimer indicated to Raedyn the murals that depicted Azura teaching the Altmeri defectors how to 'change', to become the Chimer: the Changed Folk. "Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala; they helped us, guided us, protected and sired us. Yet now our true saints are treated the same as Sheogorath and Mehrunes Dagon."

Raedyn noticed the far wall didn't seem to get any closer, as well noticed the rows and rows of tables full of regal clothed Chimer and Dunmer. Neither table nor Mer were there before, yet he never noticed any change, despite that his eyes never diverting. "Gaze upon our ancestors. Once, we were noble and free. What we had, wealthy, power, magicks, we shared with our people. We live long lives, and we gained great wisdom. And yet..." his voice lowered, and he started to sound sad, even remorseful, "...yet, 'they' came. The N'wah took it all, claiming themselves the saviors and our saints the demons. Look, and witness what has become of us."

One by one, in accelerated succession, the Meri sitting at the tables lost their beauty and clothing, the Chimer dispersed and were replaced with Dunmer, and all became clothed in dirty, soiled sacks and rags. The tables withered and became wilted wood, and many of the dirty Dunmer begged him for food or money.

"With their short, pointless lives, they lack the wisdom to rule. Their only means of order is subterfuge." With an elongated step, the Chimer stepped in front of Raedyn, blocking his path to look him in the eye through that golden mask. "The best way to eliminate a threat is to set their own against them. That is what they will do to you. But you will find sanctuary and trust within my friendship. Until then, be wary, my friend, be wary."

There was something wrong there, which Raedyn became aware of as he regained control of his body and his mind cleared up. The Chimer's words were golden and noble, but their purpose were suspect. Though he was fully willing to listen to this Mer, he was forced to. And though his appearance was regal, he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding when he gazed into that mask.

The Chimer extended his hand to Raedyn. "Will you join me?"

Raedyn was always impetuous, and that slight feeling of distrust was all he needed. "No."

In the blink of an eye, the wall flew away into a dark void. The dozens of Dunmer around him swarmed him, and their skin melted off their bodies onto him, revealing skin like ash underneath. The now deranged Dunmer grabbed his limbs and pulled so hard, Raedyn screamed in pain as bone and legament were strained to their limits. As the grand Hall they were standing in moments before was no longer in sight, replaced by that dark void, the Chimer's golden mask grew to the size of a building, watching over him as his servants tore him apart.

Then, his arms and legs were ripped off his body, and a hand plunged into his back, blasting through his ribcage and chest, holding his still beating heart in it's grip.

Raedyn bolted up, covered in cold sweat. _It was a dream. It was just a dream._ But what happened in that dream? All he could remember was pain beyond anything he had ever felt, and it felt real. Nothing came to him, no matter how hard he tried.

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The next morning, Raedyn got on the Silt Strider heading for Balmora. Merely a few hours after he left, another Silt Strider stopped in Ald'ruhn. Two passengers got off of this one. One was a Dunmer male, with a very thin face and frame covered by a blue light robe and hood with white trimming. His face was naturally adorned with a mildly scornful visage. The second was a Khajiit male, in full chitin armor minus the helmet. His facial fur was comprised mostly of black spikes leading toward his muzzle, with some patches of red and orange adorning the muzzle.

After reaching the bottom of the ramp, the two moved opposite ways and scoured the town. After half an hour, the two met near the local Mages Guild chapter house. "Find anything?" The Dunmer asked.

"Ra'Zhan found some folk who were in the Ald'Skar bar last night. Our prey spent the night there, and talked to an Ashlander trader." The Khajiit, Ra'Zhan, answered.

"Were there any suspicions about us?" His partner asked.

"None. They were very willing to talk."

The Dunmer nodded. If it were anyone else, he would have interpretted 'very willing' as 'they were too scared not to talk', but he had known Ra'Zhan ever since he was first inducted into the Morag Tong ten years ago. His Khajiit friend was among the most discreet Assassins he had ever known, and knew he would leave threats and forceful persuasion as a last resort. He wasn't surprised the Redoran citizens were so willing to give up an Outlander.

"That's better than what I've got." Without saying anything more, the two made their way to the Inn. After a few questions, they discovered the Ashlander trader was still there. Down in the basement, they found the Ashlander in question reading a book, and a Bosmer smoking a pipe. With Zainsubani distracted reading, the Morag Tong Dunmer slowly put his hand in front of the Wood Elf's face. For a moment, the smaller Elf was confused, then as the Demoralize spell took effect, he got up and ran in artificial terror of the duo.

Noticing his companion suddenly leaving, Zainsubani looked up from his book to see the two newcomers. "May I help you?" He asked, using his book to cover his hand loosening his dagger from it's sheath.

The Dunmer one walked up to him and said, "My name is Farens Dren: Nightblade. Last night you met an Outlander by the name of Raedyn Otheril, did you not?"

"I was a little drunk last night, sera, I can't be expected to remember everyone I talked to." He lifted his book to continue reading, though his attention was fully on the two intruders through the corner of his eye.

"Is that so?" Farens asked. The two Dunmer moved simultaniously: Zainsubani with his dagger, and Dren with Illusion magic. The Morag Tong member's image started shifting, as if Zainsubani's vision went double, then triple, then quadruple and blurred. He struck out with the dagger, but it met no resistence in the Sanctuary spell cloaked Mer, until a hand grabbed the Ashlander's wrist, holding the dagger still as the spell wore off a second later. Faren then pushed a hand into Zainsubani's face, and the Ashlander gradually became passive as the Charm spell took over. After a few seconds, Zainsubani's hand went limp.

"You're sorry, are you not?" Farens asked.

"Of course, I'm very sorry." Zainsubani answered, sounding both sincere and dazed.

"Now, we would like to know about this Raedyn you talked to last night. Do you remember him?" The Ashlander gave a hearty affirmation. "Could you please tell us what he wanted to talk to you about?"

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Raedyn knew something was amiss as he crossed the Odai river into the residential district of Balmora. He saw Tyermaillin walking out of Nine-toes' house, and nodded to the Altmer Blades operative. The lack of responce was enough for concern, but the worried, sympathetic look the High Elf gave him made him very nervous. When he made it to Caius's house, the door opened merely a couple seconds after he knocked.

"I got those notes." Raedyn announced as the door closed behind him.

"That's not all you've got." Caius said, fixing his subordinate with a hard stare. "Did something happen in Vivec that you didn't tell me about?"

Raedyn had to stop himself from visibly swallowing the lump in his throat. "Nothing happened. I got the information without anyone but the informants knowing I was there."

"Really?" Caius asked, sarcastically. He picked up a couple papers from his small table. "Then why is there a writ circulating in the Morag Tong for one twenty-six year old Dunmer, born under the sign of the Atronach in Cyrodiil, accused by the Temple of hospitalizing an Ordinator?"

"The-the Morag Tong?"

"Yes. Now, care to explain?" Caius's tone clearly meant he was at his patience's end.

Raedyn took a deep breath to steady his nerves, sat down in the chair by the table, and began explaining what happened, starting back at the Ghostgate, and how the Ordinator started the fight in Vivec. When he was done, Caius went quiet, leaning against the wall, looking at the ground in front of him.

After a few minutes of silence, he stood up and walked to the chest in the corner of the small room. Pulling a key out of his pocket, he opened the chest and pulled out a couple of large bottles of dark liquid. He then pulled out a couple of small glasses, and put one in front of Raedyn. He pulled the cork, and poured some for the Dunmer. "Drink up. I was saving this stuff for a special occasion, but I'll make an exception."

Raedyn looked at the crimson liquid, then slowly took a sip, and had to stop himself from starting a coughing fit. That stuff was powerful. And good! "What is this stuff?"

"Ancient Dagoth brandy." Caius explained while sniffing the aroma before taking a few sips himself. "Brewed near the War of the First Council, over three thousand, five hundred years ago. Large stashes of it have been found in Dwemer ruins inside the Ghostfence. It's price is huge, but I managed to confiscate some along with illegally obtained information during a raid, years ago."

By the third sip, Raedyn could already feel the buzz setting in. This stuff was _good_! "So, about the Morag Tong, is here any hope for me? Anyone we can pay to get this writ erased?"

"Extremely unlikely." Caius answered, bluntly. "You'd have a better chance of killing every assassin in the guild, one by one. They're a guild ruled by tradition and their own code of honor. They will never terminate a writ unless they discovered their employer's motives counteracted those codes. They will never stop looking for you unless their employer requests it."

"But I should be safe as long as I stay in the towns, right?" Raedyn inquired, calmly. This brandy was doing wonders for his nerves. "They wouldn't attack me out in public, right?"

"The Tong is government sanctioned. As long as they have the writ on them, they can kill you in the most public of places, and they would be free of prosecution."

Raedyn gripped his glass. _So there's nowhere I can hide?_ "Isn't this a little extreme?" He asked. "I didn't even kill that Ordinator, so why spend the money and effort to deal with one Outlander? That doesn't make sense."

It was a few moments before Caius answered. "It makes sense if they suspected what we do."

Raedyn looked at the aged Imperial. "Suspect what?"

The Imperial Spymaster didn't say anything before pouring more brandy into the Dunmer's glass, filling it almost to the brim. "Because of this development, we'll have to advance in our plans." He then walked across the room and sat on his bed, hands clenched together. Even in his slightly intoxicated state, Raedyn could tell the old Human was nervous. "Raedyn, the reason we haven't gotten word yet about why the Emperor chose you is because I never sent the missive. The coded package you gave me told me the reason. Raedyn...the Emperor believes you will fullfill the Nerevarine Prophesies."

It took a few seconds for that to fully register with the Dunmer. After it did, his face remained blank. Eventually, he asked, calmly and impassively, "Is this some kind of joke, old man?"

"If it was a joke," the Imperial explained, "they wouldn't have triple encoded the package. The Emperor and his advisors truely believe you will fullfill the Prophesies, defeat Dagoth Ur, and become the Nerevarine."

Raedyn took another swig of his brandy, and nonchalantly said, "Okay, so tell me this, Master Spy: why should I believe that? What makes the Emperor believe that I really am Nerevar Reincarnated and not some conveniently placed Dunmer? Or better yet, why should _I_ believe that I am?"

"The Emperor sees more than normal men," Caius began.

"Oh yes, the blood of Tiber Septim, the Dragon Born, right?" Raedyn interrupted, his voice growing steadily louder and viscious. "Your Emperor is more than human, right? Descended from the Man-God, with the power to pronounce life and death on his slightest whim, regardless of what mortals or non-humans have to deal with?"

"The Emperor's libraries, no doubt, has more information on the prophesies than we do." Caius answered back. "I don't understand what made him believe in you, but he did, and still does."

At that, Raedyn guzzled the rest of his glass, and slammed it on the table. "Another question: if the you and the Emperor already know the Prophesies, then why have I been wasting my time getting all this information that you already know?"

Caius stood up, and placed the decoded papers on the desk next to the Dunmer. "That was part of the orders: to allow you to learn the Prophesies and their importance on your own before you found out the truth."

Raedyn clenched his fist. He was hoping that, with his arguement, he would have caught the human in a lie, something to show he wasn't the object of prophesy. He wasn't going to admit it, but that explanation made sense. What's more: he remembered that Ordinator telling him he fought like an Indoril...

"Foolish humans." He whispered.

"Raedyn?" Caius asked, a little surprised.

"Foolish humans, all of you!" Raedyn nearly yelled. "How long do you live? Eighty years? We live ten times that long. You conquer others because there's nothing else to do in your short, pointless lives!" _Where did that come from?_ Raedyn wondered, in the back of his mind. The words were just coming out on their own. "Not one of you know anything about life or wisdom; only the fear of death."

"Raedyn, calm down." Caius said, trying to sound soothing. This was going downhill fast. He didn't expect his subordinate to take the news this badly. "I've given you a little too much to drink. You're just being paranoid."

"Don't play coy with me, Imperial!" Raedyn yelled. Where were these statements coming from? "I may be a criminal, but I'm not stupid. You're doing nothing but exploiting this land's myths and legends. You pull me out of jail, and expect me to be blindly grateful. You set me up with delusions of grandeur, and as soon as I hold sway in this land, you'll use me to solidify your power here as well!" He fixed the Imperial Spymaster with a hard glare. "The best way to eliminate a threat is to set their own against them, right?" Where did he hear that before?

"That's not how it is!" Caius defended.

"Well then," Raedyn said, standing up, "I guess I'll put it to the test. Remember that threat when I first arrived? About how I'll get arrested again if I refuse orders? If you're right, you wouldn't dare follow through with that threat and lock me up, negating any chance of me fullfilling the Prophesies. If I'm right, then even as a prisoner and a slave, I'll still be free of your machinations. Either way, you lose." He then left the small house the elderly Imperial called home.

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For half an hour, as the twilight gave way to night, Raedyn wandered the streets of Balmora. For all his bravado, he wasn't going to leave the town, not that night. He was in no mood to face the wilderness and it's creatures, and even he knew he was a little too drunk for any long trek. So he wandered Balmora, a scowl on his face, making sure not to trip over his own angry feet and hit his head.

The entire time, he cursed the Empire for trying to put something like this on him, that he was better in the cell he was becoming so accustomed to. There was no way he could have been Nerevar Reborn, it was impossible! He was nothing like Nerevar. So what if he accidentally used some moves similar to Indoril style, he was fairly sure he had seen those moves somewhere before. _Yet they came so naturally._ A small, persistent voice chimed. Not matter how hard he tried, he came up with facts that mocked his hopes.

So what if Nerevar used long blades, and wielded some fancy, fiery enchanted sword? Caius set him up with learning the long blade, so it was an intentional coincidence! _But that weapon felt like a part of you. You've seen how much better you are naturally than so many others._ He could never be a leader. He knew nothing of politics or exploiting terms like politicians did constantly. _Then what did you just do in there? You used their own terms against them, did you not?_ But he was an orphan; born poor, abandoned, and left to live by his own wits. He wasn't high born, he wasn't fit for rulership or leadership. _But Vivec was merely a farmer before he met Nerevar, and now he's a God-King._

Raedyn stopped in his tracks. How did he know that? He quickly turned and made his way to the Balmora Temple, and found a priest holding a wicker basket full of various herbs and roots walking away from the merchant district. "Excuse me, sir!" Raeydn called out to the Mer. "What was Vivec before the War of the First Council?"

The priest stopped and looked at the fellow Dunmer in surprise at the sudden question. "He was a farmer, Outlander." Before the Priest could continue, Raedyn turned and left him there, and continued wandering. _How did I know that?_ He searched his memory hard to find out where he learned that, but nothing came up. Try as he might, he could not remember ever hearing about Vivec other than what he had done for Morrowind. Never a word of his past. How could he have known that?

Raedyn stopped, then looked up to the sky, and stared at the moon. He wasn't noble or heroic. He was a thief, an urchin, a murderer. His life had been nothing but one difficulty after another, how could he be a savior? _Those who suffered the most, those who were given the least and made the most mistakes are most fit, for it is through suffering and trail that one gains wisdom._ He grabbed his head hard, squeezing with everything he had to drive these thoughts from his mind.

He wasn't aware of anyone approaching until fingers wrapped around his arm. Startled, Raedyn recoiled, but found he couldn't escape the grip.

"Red Mountain welcomes you, friend." The one-eyed Dunmer said. "Come, and rejoice in His coming."

"Who are you?" Raedyn demanded.

"Go to Red Mountain, and Lord Dagoth Ur will save you. You will find sanctuary and trust in his friendship." Raedyn felt himself go cold at those words. In flashes, the dream came back to him. "He will save us all. He will slaughter all the foul N'wah, and he can do so with you." Raedyn swung out desperately, knocking the Mer back far enough to where he fell into the Odai river.

The dream came to him, becoming crystal clear once again, giving him an unwelcome and horrifying revelation: the Chimer was, without doubt, Dagoth Ur himself. He was to be a tool for that entity in the mountain. The Empire, the Temple, and now Dagoth Ur, they all thought he was the one of prophesy. He wanted out. He wanted to get away, to run, just as his mother had always told him. He wanted to go somewhere where no one would use him, where he could be safe from others.

He wanted back into his cell.

Off he took, into the night, using all the shadow creeping techniques he picked up in his years as a thief. Off into the allyways and corridors of the hunting ground that was Balmora. His hunting ground, his prey, and most welcome: his terms. For the first time in so long, he felt a measure of control over his destiny. He would save himself, and damn himself, all in one fell swoop, and prove all prophesies and hopes wrong. He was his own person, no one else.

As he climbed onto a roof, he saw his prey. Down below, a well dressed human male, he couldn't distinquish what race. Leaping off the roof, arms first, he tackled the man to the solid ground hard, driving the breath out of himself. After the initial moments of being stunned, Raedyn regained his breath, and grabbed the human below him, flipping him onto his back. He noticed the Man was still conscious, but it mattered little. The only difference it made was the Man would see his doom with his own eyes.

Raedyn conjured a dagger, and gripped it with both hands, lifting it over his hands. In one motion, he would set his future in stone, solidify it as his own, and no one elses! He had been a slave too long, a slave to poverty, a slave in prison, a slave to the Empire;_ no more!_ He was ending it here. He would decide this Man's fate, and thus his own. No one would decide his future for him.

He readied himself to plunge the dagger into the Man's heart, then he saw his face. Pure terror dominated the Man's face as he was put face to face with his fate. The fate Raedyn determined for him. He was better than this. He swore he would never drop so low again.

The dagger evaporated, Raedyn stood up and ran off. He ran and ran; down allyways, across roads, past surprised guards, ran to escape that terrified face, ran to escape that monumental mistake he almost repeated. What seemed like an eternity later, he stopped and leaned against a wall, panting heavily. His world started spinning, and he retched on the road.

For long minutes there, he stared at his own vomit. Some time later, he heard approaching footsteps. He looked up, and saw Caius standing there, fully clothed for a change, with his arms crossed. He looked at Raedyn with a stern expression, though the Mer thought he saw a hint of pity in that gaze. The Imperial then looked at the vomit. He scoffed.

"If I had known you were such a lightweight, I wouldn't have pulled out my secret stash."

After a few moments, Raedyn chuckled. His chuckles then turned to laughter. He laughed like a maniac for several minutes before regaining control of himself. "I don't look much like a Nerevarine, now do I?"

Caius snickered at that, and grabbed Raedyn's arm, leading him to the South Corner Inn to rent the usual bed for him.

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Author's Notes: Well, there you have it. Chapter Five. It was originally supposed to get all the way up to where Raedyn enters the Urshilaku camp, but it started getting too long, and for once I wanted the chapter lengths to be somewhat consistent. And I'm sorry for this taking so long. Compounding a complete computer system crash, completely erasing the five-six pages I had already written, re-writting it, writers block, and all the hesitation I had with the scene where Caius spills the beans, it took over a month and a half to write this. About that "Caius tells all" scene, that was difficult. Most people never go through something like that, learn that you're the prophesiezed savior and all, so I had to really think hard on what Raedyn's reaction would be. I didn't want him to be all heroically "I'll do this", as that's just rediculous, and I didn't want to make it simply disbelief, as that would make it seem like they weren't taking it seriously. And I certainly didn't want to shortcut it like I did in the scene where Raedyn learned Caius was a Blades Spymaster (y'know, the scene that didn't happen, only was alluded to?). I also put a lot of thought into the words Dagoth Ur used during the dream, and the only place I was going fast was nowhere, so I winged it and revised it later.

Onto good news: I'll be getting my new computer in a few days, and it'll be powerful enough to play Oblivion on it. No 360 for me, thank you. Construction Set? Yes, please.


	6. Death in the Foyada

Notes: Well, I've officially started my long awaited (for me) Legend of Dragoon fic. Don't know when I'll post it, or when I'll continue on it, since I've only done the first half of the prologue as I write this, and I haven't fully figured out the plotline yet. Hey, often the best stuff you come up with is stuff you thought up the moment you began writing the scene. If you read Duel of Fates, when Hideo and Kaejadra fight at the end and we find out _why_ big K is fighting in the first place, I didn't think any of that up before I started on that sequence. I literally developed Kaejadra's personality as I wrote it.

On further note, the new computer is in, and it is SLOWER than our last computer, and it has no video card. What the fuck is the point of having a top-of-the-line, $800+ computer if it's no more useful than a five year old computer? Dip shit parents and them telling the Dell guy "oh, we're not going to use it for gaming", and telling me they're sure Oblivion will run on it, even though they were fully aware of the ridiculously high specs needed. After doing ADDITIONAL research, I've deducted I should be able to get it to play if I buy a $150-$250 video card. I'm going to have to watch my spending these next few weeks.

**Chapter Six: Death in the Foyada**

A light mist covered the ground of Maar Gan, a rare sight in this part of Vvardenfell, creating a solemn carpet for the northern most Redoran settlement. The thought that these Redoran were regarded as _warriors_ filled Farens Dren with contempt, even bordered on rage. These _nobles_, these politicians were playing at being warriors. The only difference between them and anyone else was that they did their own killing, and they used terms like honor to justify their disreputable policies.

He, Farens Dren, _Knower_ within the Morag Tong, was a warrior. He killed for a reason. He made results, he brought about what _needed_ to happen, for others and not himself. The Morag Tong was different than anyone else: they followed their own rules, and those rules were honorable. And although the intention was honorable, the method didn't have to be. Fighting with 'honor' was nothing more than a handicap, only something egotistical fools relied on, and one's kinsmen suffered the most from such pride. A true warrior was not held back by such an ego, not for one who strove for things greater than himself. That was the way things should have been. That was how he always tried to conduct himself.

At his perch at the observation platform of Maar Gan's western-most guard tower, he had a most advantageous view of the city, its streets and alleys, the Skars and Silt Strider platform. As the morning fog dissipated, he saw his partner, Ra'Zhan, approaching the tower. Casually, Farens stepped over the edge of the guard tower, taking a thirty foot plunge. Moments after his feet touched air, he used a Slowfall spell and touched the ground gently. "Is there a problem?"

"Is staying here wise?" The Assassin asked. "Ra'Zhan doubts not Farens's instincts, but we could be awaiting this prey for weeks."

"We don't need my instincts to tell us he'll come here." Farens explained. "Zainsubani told us Otheril was interested in the Urshilaku camp, and to reach them, this is the most convenient route. Concurrently, neither Zainsubani nor anyone else we've talked to knew where he comes from, how he got here, or how he left. If we went searching, we would be searching blind."

"I'll trust your judgment this time, Ra'Zhan was just making sure Farens understood we might be in for a long wait." He turned to leave, but stopped, and said, "But Farens, my friend, be wary of your instincts, lest they betray you. They are bound to be wrong sometime."

Farens allowed himself a small chuckle. "Ra'Zhan, what would I do without you?" As the Assassin left to return to the Inn, Farens acknowledged the truth in his own words. He really didn't know what he would do without Ra'Zhan. The Khajiit was his best friend ever since he first came to Vvardenfell, the one who introduced him to the Morag Tong. To him, finding Ra'Zhan had been a miracle gifted to him by Mephala, along with him aimlessly wandering into Morrowind, and finding the guild, who he now considered his family.

"Ra'Zhan, what would I do without you?" He wondered.

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Raedyn made the short walk from the South Wall Corner Club to the Cosades residence with a despondent, lethargic gait. As the door to Caius's home got closer, the more the Dunmer wanted to turn around. He did not want to meet with the elderly spymaster this morning, the mild hangover, lack of sleep, and his general disposition toward the Imperial notwithstanding. Everything changed last night, when Caius told him his supposed 'destiny'. It wasn't just the fear of what was to come, mingled with his anger and confusion, but he was also, strangely, embarrassed by his reactions. Just when he thought he had gained some measure of control over himself, he reverted back to the way he was before being sent to prison that day in Chorrol.

Pondering this, he remembered a day when he was about five years old, before his mother died. He was trying to get a ball off the roof of their house, and accidentally put a rock through a window. Not wanting to face his mother, he ran to the other side of town. He stayed there until nightfall. Eventually, when it got cold out, with nowhere to go, he went back home, expecting a reprimand and a grounding from his mother. Instead, she just held him, there in the doorway, not saying a word for many, many minutes. He remembered almost crying then, and feeling safe and warm in her arms.

That feeling, that warmth felt so foreign right then, so distant and yearned. Right then, he would've given anything to feel that again. He knew that wasn't the reception that awaited him. Now, more than ever, he had to face reality. That was why he continued forward when he didn't want to. His world would only get worse if he ran, and he was no longer such a foolish young Mer, not like he was that day in Chorrol, not anymore. At least, he didn't want to be.

Lifting his fist, he lightly rapped on Caius's door. A few moments later, the elder Man opened the door, shirtless as always, and wordlessly offered him entry.

Inside, the two remained silent for a few minutes, neither looking at the other, with Raedyn sitting in the chair and Caius leaning against the wall. Finally, Caius asked, "Get any sleep?"

"No." Raedyn answered.

Silence remained for a minute before Caius broke it again. "Still angry?"

"Yes." After a few seconds, Raedyn scoffed. "Of course I'm still angry. Getting out of jail like this seemed a blessing at first, but if I knew what I do now, I would have wanted to stay. I guess that's why it was kept from me."

"The Imperial City has known Emperors of every color and flavor," Caius explained, referring the often tumultuous leadership of the Septim line, "but our current Emperor is wise and methodical. He wouldn't have sent you if he didn't believe you were the Incarnate."

"That's not what I wanted to hear, Caius." Raedyn said, tired and despondent.

"Be that as it may, it is a fact we must confront." Caius explained.

"Why me, Caius?" Raedyn asked, expressing the question that kept him up all night. "What's so special about me? I don't know anymore about politics than what you've told me, I don't know anything about managing troops, what makes me more capable than…Duke Vedam Dren?"

"If you are the Nerevarine, then the only one who can answer that is Azura herself." Caius answered. "I know: you didn't want to hear that either, did you?"

It was nearly a full minute before Raedyn finally said, "So what now? You said something last night about accelerating our plans. What plans?"

"The plan was for you to learn enough about the prophesies to know what to do next. Unfortunately, now we don't have time to do all the research ourselves. The only thing we can rely on is someone who knows the prophesies intimately. Hassour said the western-most Ashlander tribe was the leader of the Nerevarine Cult?"

"Yes, the Urshilaku."

"Befriending the Nerevarine Cult may be the safest approach to this situation. The Morag Tong likely wouldn't think to look among the Ashlander tribes, especially since you're an outlander. Even if they did, they would think twice before attacking you then. They _are_ bound by honor not to kill anyone other than their target, and if they attacked a clan-friend, he would have to deal with an entire clan that doesn't care much for the Morag Tong's immunity."

"Caius," Raedyn said, "I don't know about that. The Ashlanders are very sensitive to custom and respect. I can't just walk in and declare myself the Nerevarine and expect to be protected. What if they don't believe me? Better yet, what if I'm not the Nerevarine? Going there and finding out this was all a misunderstanding could make things worse."

"That's true, but regardless, we need to find out, and more importantly, we need you to go somewhere safe. Raedyn, I'll leave the choice up to you. If you are the Nerevarine, then this choice should be trivial compared to what you will face in the future. If you can't face up to this, then you might as well forfeit your life."

Raedyn sighed. Once again, Caius had a point. Damn Imperials and their immaculate reasoning. What kind of choice was this? How dare he even call it a choice! They truly were masters of their crafts: wordplay and intrigue. How perfectly these events worked against him, he could naught but wonder: how much of this was orchestrated by Caius and his superiors. At first glance, the Imperials didn't stand to gain from this predicament, but under the surface, Raedyn saw what could happen. The people of Morrowind and the Tribunal didn't like the Empire, and at best shared a fragile relationship. Creating a hero and icon could solidify and fortify that relationship.

Yet all these conspiracy theories did nothing to change the reality: he was marked for death, with few havens for him to go to. In the end, what other options did he have if he wanted to survive?

"Alright Caius, I'll go to the Urshilaku."_ And as soon as I can, I'll sever any ties to you and the Empire. You trained me to operate on my own, and that I shall do, even if you don't approve. Sorry, but I'm no ones puppet._

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Leaning against the guard tower, Ferens was well aware of the passing time and the shifting dusts around him. He was on the hunt. A stationary hunt, but a hunt, nonetheless, and he was a professional. Time was apparent, but it mattered little to him. He would wait as long as necessary.

To him, the art of assassination was a way to better oneself. Every writ, every job has its problems, has its hiccups, and through controlling himself, he could overcome anything, and control the worst of situations. 'No one can control anything but themselves', the saying went. He knew this was wrong, he had experienced the contrary innumerable times. Through his trade, or more accurately: his craft, he was able to control the lives of others by choosing to end them. It was his path in life, his means of control. With each kill, he came closer to…

No, this wasn't the time to recall such times. He had to keep his head there and then, keep it focused on the hunt. Thought the chances of Otheril coming this way so quickly was slim, one never knew.

He suddenly became aware of one Khajiit moving towards him, a Khajiiti laugh escaping his muzzle. It sounded more like how other races would cough. "What's so funny?" He asked his friend.

"A patron in Trade House tell Ra'Zhan a funny." The Khajiit explained. "Imagine a daedric scamp tradesman in Caldera, a very wealthy one with thriving business."

Even Farens chuckled lightly at the idea. "Did you come to tell me about it? You know you're not very good at retelling stories."

"No." Ra'Zhan answered, his mood still light, but becoming more serious. "Ra'Zhan heard in Trade House that Smithy wants some Kagouti hides. Will pay five hundred septims for whomever brings in first. How about a break, Farens, and we hunt a different prey?"

The Dark Elf Nightblade shifted his gaze back to the Silt Strider ramp. It _was_ most likely Otheril would take more than a day before returning. "Might as well." He answered.

Mere minutes after the duo lost sight of Mar Gaan, a Silt Strider carrying a passenger arrived.

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After a few minutes to determine there was no official apothecary in the small Redoran mining village, Raedyn entered the shrine. The sight that greeted him was a large rock, or perhaps a small boulder, and a couple of priests. As he made his way to the priests, he looked around the room, partially for curiosity and partially to look for anyone suspicious. He quickly found one: a dremora.

The Cyrodiilic Dunmer jumped at the sight.

"Be still, child." A priest said, laying a hand on his shoulder from behind. Instincts kicking in at finding someone directly behind him, he spun around to face the priest. "I am Salen Ravel, a priest. Is there something I can help you with?"

Raedyn looked over his shoulder at the dremora once more before addressing the priest. "He's friendly, right?" The Dunmer heard a huff deep enough to come from a bear.

"Not friendly, per se, but not threatening. Or perhaps I should say: not an immediate threat. How may I help you child?"

It took a few moments for Raedyn to take his mind off the dremora, whose gaze he could feel on his back like stream of fire, long enough to recall what he needed. "I'll be needing food for a daylong expedition, as well as some medicines should I become diseased, and a tent, the lighter the better."

"I can comply with this. May I ask where you're going?" The priest asked as he started leading Raedyn to the cellar.

"Why don't you ask the two trailing me instead?" The Dunmer answered. Raedyn wasn't aware that the Cyrodiilic phrase, a joke directed at the Empire's spy network, hadn't migrated to Morrowind yet. As such, he missed the suspicious glance the priest gave him.

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Ten minutes later, as Raedyn left the town for the Foyada Bani-Dad, two Morag Tong members entered the town, and were told the smithy went to the Shrine. Not even a minute after the duo entered the Shrine, the Dremora gave them a hard glare that clearly said, 'don't talk to me'. Farens gave him a mutual snarl.

"May I help you, my good sentients?" A priest asked.

"Looking for the smithy." Farens answered. "And an Outlander Dunmer, probably in Glass armor, in case you see him in the future."

The priest blinked in surprise. "Actually, I just saw one wearing such armor, not five minutes ago. Black messy hair, thinly cut red beard, quite young, maybe thirty years old."

Farens gave the priest his full attention. It was only his long trained self control that kept him from visibly showing his surprise, and anger, and refrain from using a Charm spell to get quick, truthful answers. "Really? What did he want?"

"He just wanted some basic supplies. He also said there were two fellows following him."

The Dunmer Nightblade's stoic face nearly cracked as he realized this. Their target _knew_ about them? And knew there were two of them? How was that possible? The only answer he could come up with was this Dunmer was a lot more than he seemed. And he couldn't risk overlooking something.

He lifted his hand to the priest's face, and used his most powerful Charm spell at point blank range. Ra'Zhan reacted quickly, making himself a wall between his partner and the suddenly alert occupants of the room, including the dremora who looked excited at the possibility of a fight.

"You will tell us _everything_ that was said and done when this Dunmer entered." Farens ordered the priest, who was so hypnotized he could barely stand straight.

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Farens peeked over the boulder he and Ra'Zhan hid behind, seeing their target continue on through the Foyada. They had been tailing him for nearly an hour. By his estimations based off his map, Otheril was three hours away from the end of the Foyada. A crackling echoed down the lava river, and blue energy raced from the ground where the targeted Dunmer stood. Another Cliff Racer fell to the ground. He had been doing that since entering the Foyada: using College of Destruction spells to take down the numerous Cliff Racers and few Kagouti he encountered.

"Why does the pray continue to taunting us?" Ra'Zhan asked.

"He knows we're following him," Farens explained, "but he doesn't know we know. I'm fairly certain he's only doing this to scare us off. He might not know we're Morag Tong. He won't be able to use that power once his Magicka runs out. That's when we strike."

Ra'Zhan looked at his friend inquisitively. "But does he not have potions? He must have some if he's continued doing this for so long."

"Remember those files we confiscated from the Ebonheart? This guy is listed as being born under the Sign of the Atronach. He has a lot of Magicka, but it won't regenerate over time. That priest said he saw the inside of Otheril's travel sack; he had no potions on him then, and he didn't purchase any Magicka restoring potions. No creatures in the Foyada use spells, so we should be fine."

Ra'Zhan nodded his agreement. "So, we wait for him to run his Magicka dry, we then take him out?"

Farens smiled. "That's right, my friend. All we need is a little patience."

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A condensed ball of electrical energy flew from Raedyn's hand, now easier than it used to be, and took down the thousandth lizard-bird. How many of these things were in this Foyada? He was starting to believe that every avian on Vvardenfell was after him.

At least it gave him his necessary practice in the College of Destruction. All he had in terms of long range attacks were magic, and he knew he needed his practice. If only he had thought to get some potions for his Magicka, he wouldn't have to worry about running out and being forced to wait for his magic pool to regenerate.

Another advantage was that, with these annoying birds coming at him from every angle, it provided good practice for being aware of his surroundings, an exercise Caius said was essential. If a Blade was in a tavern, spying someone out, he had to be aware of the other patrons, for example. He had to be able to notice things most people wouldn't, such as a stare that lasted longer than it should have, or one person who looked at the Blades operative too long, or any other signs of potential danger. The best way to face danger was to know what you were getting into before hand.

Though his mind occasionally wandered, Raedyn managed to continually keep notes of his surrounding, the terrain, the weather, rock outcrops, places a Kagouti could be hiding, and anything else he could come up with.

When he noticed a lizard-bird eying him from near the cliff's edge of the Foyada, he shot a weak fireball at him to try and scare it off. It seemed to work, as it changed its path and didn't continue toward him. He kept his eye on it to make sure it didn't change its mind and get him from behind. He saw, then, that it was now heading directly toward the path behind him, and was lost from sight behind some boulders.

He almost ignored this fact, but he realized there was nothing behind him that would interest the avian. There was nothing there, no animals, no plants, no carcasses, nothing that he had noticed as he passed through those boulders. There had to be something now.

After several seconds, nothing happened; no sounds, no lizard-bird coming from the rocks, nothing. He went cold as the realization hit. He must have been followed. No wildlife he had ever heard of followed its prey at a distance; only sentient beings.

Using a Detection spell from his Mysticism arsenal, he detected a life form behind the boulders, quite a ways behind him. At this distance, he couldn't see it very well, but there was definitely at least one living being the size of a sentient race there.

Turning quickly, but not too quickly, he started down the path again. He didn't want them to know he knew they were there, spying on him.

Suddenly, he heard the all-too familiar squawk. He saw another of the lizard-birds coming toward him. Raedyn, continuing what he had been doing, used a frost spell on the avian. That stunned the creature, yet before it could hit the ground, it flapped its wings powerfully, regaining some height, and continuing toward the Dark Elf. Raedyn tried to conjure up another spell, but found he had run out of Magicka. _Damn it!_

He quickly grabbed his glass sword, and unsheathed it in a manner that it struck the creature in the same motion, cutting right through its head. As the creature died instantly, Raedyn braced himself as the now lifeless body slammed into him, driving him to the ground.

The Dark Elf groaned, and pushed the creature off him. As he stood up, he tried to form a fireball in his hand. A few flames formed, then dissipated, and felt himself completely drained. Raedyn groaned again. If his pursuer or pursuers attacked him right then, then he would be at a big disadvantage.

Picking up his traveling sack, he slung it over his shoulder and continued on.

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Farens smiled as he saw Otheril try to form fire in his hand, and fail. Their chance had come.

But he knew the methodical, cautious approach was best. "Ra'Zhan," he said to his friend, "I'll go on ahead, and attack from the front. When that happens, he'll be distracted. Can I trust your aim?"

Ra'Zhan smiled. "My arrows never miss, my friend."

Farens smiled, and nodded. He then used a College of Alteration spell, and jumped a hundred feet in the air, flying past the steep walls of the Foyada, and landed at the top. He took off and a full run, and within minutes, would be well ahead of Otheril.

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Raedyn occasionally kept track of just how far away his assassin was, making note of how far away he stayed. He continued along the Foyada, looking for his chance. Soon, he saw it: a cave. It had a wooden door on it, so it was likely an egg mine. As soon as he caught sight of it, Raedyn 'casually' pressed his hand against a rock. Anyone who wasn't close wouldn't notice the black runes that spread from his hand and onto the rock before fading away.

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He was going into an egg mine. Oh well, all the better for him. Khajiit can see in the dark better than Dunmer. He was going to have to improvise the plan.

As soon as Otheril was gone from sight, he took off at a full sprint toward the door. He stood against the frame of the door, not allowing his shadow to go through the door planks.

Something felt off. Ever since he was little, he's had a sixth sense for danger. Something felt off. Readying his chitin short-bow, he counted to ten, and then slowly opened the door.

He immediately turned around, and found a flash of green. The next thing he knew, his bow snapped in half. There was Otheril, somehow back out of the mine.

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Raedyn hoped the assassin wouldn't notice the oddity of going into a mine out of the blue, though he was certain they wouldn't notice the Mark spell he used on that rock.

The Khajiit assassin was quick. He lunged forward, drawing his steel long-sword in the process. Raedyn blocked it with his blade, and as soon as the Khajiit's bodyweight began to push on the deadlock, he pushed his blade, as well as the Khajiit's skyward. With no support, the Khajiit lost his balance and stumbled forward.

At the last second, he noticed the Khajiit had a dagger in his off-hand. Instead of moving out of the way of the stumbling assassin, he moved in close, too close for either of the Khajiit's extended arms to bare their weapons on him, and he kneed the assassin in the thigh, hopefully bruising him enough to where he wouldn't be able to use that leg well.

The Khajiit reacted fast. He jumped back a few feet, and spun around, swinging his long-sword with all his Khajiiti might. Raedyn, surprised by the assassin's speed, barely managed to lift his shield in time. The steel blade impacted hard on the green volcanic glass outlining of the shield, shattering the surface, leaving it jagged. The impact knocked Raedyn back, slightly off balance.

In a moment of mental clarity, he exaggerated how off balance he was, creating bait for his assassin. The Khajiit took it.

He leap at Raedyn, and the Dunmer quickly regained his footing, and stepped to the Khajiit's right side, outside the reach of the dagger in his left hand. Raedyn has hopped to use his sword to cut off the Khajiit's arm, but found his opponent stopped short, and the Dunmer exaggerated his step, leaving his left side toward the opponent. Thinking fast, he conjured up a daedric dagger in his shield baring left hand, and swung it down, cleanly slicing through the steel long-sword.

The Khajiit then lunged forward with his dagger. Raedyn, with his shield arm still in front of him, and his dagger gone, swung his shield in front of him, knocking the dagger hand to the side. He then swung his shield into the Khajiit's face, the broken glass part of it shredding the side of his face.

The Khajiit recoiled back in immense pain, and Raedyn used the distraction to further the pain through a fire spell. The fire spread across the assassin's upper body quickly, singeing its fur quickly, leaving a putrid smell in the air. The flames died very quickly, and Raedyn lunged, driving his sword into the Khajiit's stomach.

As blood quickly left the assassin, he looked at Raedyn through his pained eyes. "But you ran out of magicka." He said.

"It regenerated." Raedyn answered, a scowl on his face. As the Khajiit died, Raedyn realized he must have known he was born under the sign of the Atronach. Most people were surprised when they learned his magicka regenerated just like anyone elses.

He then looked at the Khajiit, laying there lifeless. Visions came back to him, the anger he felt when he killed that Imperial, the desperate battle to get away from the town guards, the despair he felt when he lost the fight.

He felt himself going cold, and found it hard to breathe. He felt the same kind of anger here, the same want to kill. This wasn't self defense; he wanted to kill the Khajiit. Turning, he ran down the Foyada for all he was worth. He wanted to get away from that body as fast as he could. It was proof that he was, and always will be, a killer.

_Mother…what has become of me?_

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Farens fell to his knees as he surveyed all that was left of his friend. It was not enough that Otheril killed him, but he had to kill him painfully. His facial fur was burnt down to the skin, and his face was mutilated. That Mer not only killed his best friend, but made him suffer for his own amusement.

As tears slowly ran down his face, Farens hugged his friend's body, not caring of the blood. He would not catch Otheril before he made it to the Ashlander camp, that he was certain. He wasn't leaving his friend's body until he buried him. It was the least he could do for the friendship, the laughs, the willing ear that always listened to him.

_I will make him pay. I swear to you, I will make him pay._

Memories came back to Farens, images of blood, of curses, of those who slaughtered his family, of those who took away his birthright. Otheril had taken away as much. He would have his revenge.

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Author's Notes: I'm sorry for the last few pages being crappy. I'm in a major rush here. If I don't finish this story in the next five minutes, I'll have to wait five days. And because of that, I can't proofread. Thanks Giving vacation, y'know. I swear I'll proofread and correct any mistakes after I'm back on Sunday. I'm also very sorry for the wait.

BTW, I finally got Oblivion to work on my computer. I was about to buy a 150 dollar video card, when I called the Dell support guy to find out if the card I was about to buy would be compatible with my computer, and he got nosy and wanted to know the game the card was for, and told me that Oblivion would run, I just needed to download a disk driver. I downloaded it, and now the game works. SWEET! Even though I can only run it on the absolute lowest settings, so low it looks like Daggerfall, SWEET! Even without the breathtaking graphics it's awesome.


	7. Burden from the Ashes

Notes: Welcome to another of my inane and overly personal rants. I switched the graphics setting on my Oblivion files from Very Low setting to Low setting, and holy crap, what a difference that makes. I've beaten the main storyline, the Dark Brotherhood (aka: the most awesome guild EVAR!), Mage's Guild, and Arena. I've gotten Morrowind GotY for my PC (WOW, it looks great), and downloaded both construction sets (whomever said they were easy to use should be hanged!!!). Okay, enough of my blabbering, thank you for listening, those of you who bothered, it means a lot to me. Okay, not really. Enough, chapter, chapter…

**Chapter Seven: Burden from the Ashes**

Running, rushing, moving.

Breathing, huffing, chocking.

Running, running so far, yet never escaping his own shadow, his dark side. It never left him, following his every step, forever watching him, taunting him as his own dark reflection.

He was a killer. Seven years of every waking moment being reminded of that fact, a lifetime of constant denial could not erase the bloody fantasies he's dreamt, the never ceasing restraint he needed to keep it under control. Seven years of telling himself he didn't enjoy killing that Imperial, seven years of denying the comfort the man's blood on his hands gave him.

All denials stopped when he killed the Khajiit assassin. A part of him wanted to fight then. A part of him relished the idea of luring his stalker into a trap, and the anticipation of the kill. And kill him he did. Twice he had the opportunity to run when the assassin couldn't follow. He first disfigured his face, but he didn't run. He burned him, but didn't run. Only after he finished the beast off did he feel the job complete.

"_Be good for me after I'm gone."_

His mother's dying words sustained his restraint. Those words were all that kept him from sating his bloodlust those many years. Had she known? Had she seen the monster he would become?

The Emperor must have been wrong. Not even the Nine were twisted enough to elect excrement like him as a savior, and Azura could not have picked worse. He was no savior; he was a murderer, everything he didn't want to be, everything he tried not to be, everything he was. He was denying himself, he was more than a killer, he was a fool; a fool foolishly trying to run from a corpse, trying to run from himself.

Running, breathing, stomping, moving, trying to forget, trying to escape. He became mildly aware of water ahead. From running to swimming, it made no difference. He had to keep moving. He hit land, and continued running. His muscled ached, his lungs burned, his throat as dry and hot as fire, yet still he moved. The pain sustained him, distracted him, it kept him from the past.

Running, swimming, breathing, escaping, running, crawling, breathing, panting, moving, crawling, escaping. At last, he collapsed from exhaustion. As the darkness took him, he heard his mother's voice; not angry, but full of shame:

_You're no savior._

0000000000

As the cobwebs of self mortification faded from his mind, Raedyn found himself surrounded by softness and warmth. Eventually, he opened his eyes to find himself in a bed, with a mattress of the softest goose down, and a thick burgundy blanket. The room he was in was made of polished wood, and no spot was left undecorated. All corners and edges were decorated with finely cut wood carved and painted to resemble thick ropes. On one wall stood a single colored mural, sanguine, depicting elves fighting what seemed to be elves with thick beards, where on the opposing wall the scene was carved into the wood so finely and precisely to give the appearance of greater depth than there really was, showing elves traveling across a great plain, their cargo heavy and their appearances worn. Both pieces of art were bordered by numerous candles, as if both scenes depicted important events to the owner. A small basin, made of wood yet still well cut, stood next to a study, which stood by a large bookshelf.

_Where am I?_ Raedyn wondered. Sitting up from the bed, he moved about the room, looking at the mural and engraving closer before checking the study. The room had no windows, and no sounds could be heard. He moved over to the bookshelf, and found the book titles to be difficult to read. The characters were a strange form of Mer hieroglyphs. After looking closer, he realized this must have been archaic Alyeid writings. Yet the books seemed to be of pristine condition.

Once again, he wondered where he was, and who had brought him here. The instinct to treat kindness with suspicion was well engraved, and he wondered more on who had taken him in more than where he was, and that it was better to find this person himself rather than wait for him or her. Then he realized it. Not only were there no windows, there were no doors. No way of entering or exiting.

"Welcome." A familiar baritone chimed.

Raedyn spun around, and found himself looking at, once again, that Chimer body with the golden mask. "You!" Raedyn exclaimed in surprise.

"You believed me to be a mere dream?" The Chimer asked, almost playfully.

"No." Raedyn answered on reflex, then immediately regained control of himself. He had to be careful of his words, especially if this Mer was who he suspected. "No, I wasn't sure. Who are you? How can you visit me in my dreams?"

"I think you know who I am." That regal voice replied, not maliciously, not playfully, just as a statement.

Raedyn considered his options. He could answer honestly, and hopefully get an honest answer in return, or he could play ignorant, and observe his counter-move. Whatever move that is, it would give Raedyn information that could, no doubt, help him. Yet this Chimer claimed Raedyn already knew, therefore he likely couldn't bluff convincingly. Might as well play safe, not reveal whatever cunning he had gained.

"Dagoth Ur?" Raedyn answered.

The Chimer nodded. Raedyn had to stop himself from visibly frowning. He hadn't expected Dagoth to be so upfront with him. Not for the first time, he wondered what expression or whatever else was behind that mask. "Why am I here?" He hoped he was vague enough. Hopefully Dagoth's answer provided more information than the direct answer.

"I wish to meet with you, to know you." Dagoth answered. He put his arms behind his back, and started to walk around Raedyn. "I'm sure you wonder if you are Nerevar Reborn, as do the Empire and the Temple; and as do I."

Again, that was more upfront than Raedyn had expected, but he learned the answer to the question he wasn't going to ask directly: if he was the Nerevarine. It seemed, though, that even the Dagoth Ur didn't know. He needed to find out more, and he hoped his next statement didn't provoke the Chimer in any way. "Then I am your enemy?"

"Then you are my friend." Dagoth Ur answered quickly, but calmly. "Or," he said a moment later, as if an afterthought, "or perhaps I should say, you _were_ my friend. Just being his reincarnation does not make you Nerevar Indoril."

"Then I am not your enemy, either way?" Raedyn said, carefully choosing his words. He hoped that would further push away any notions he was a threat to the Chimer. Yet he still needed information. "If that is so, what difference would it make?"

"Nerevar was a visionary, a leader in a time of great need. The n'wah are moving to gain greater control over Morrowind as we speak. The power of the three traitors is waning; when it is gone, which would you prefer take over the ancestral land and true home of the Dunmer: the same Imperials who stole over a quarter of your life, or a true ancestor of the Dunmer?"

Raedyn noted the change in the subject, and kept his focus despite the truth he saw in the question. "You still haven't answered my question." He carefully studied his opponent, attempting to note any body language that might speak more than his words.

Dagoth Ur didn't respond for several moments, during which he gradually turned his head away from the Dunmer, as if to not look him in the eye. "If, indeed, you are Nerevar's reincarnation, Azura claimed you would cast down the three traitors and restore the true worship befitting our great race. That is something I would assist, that is what I have strived for these last thirty-five hundred years."

Raedyn had him on the recoil, the hesitation said it all. He had to have been lying, bending the truth, or perverting perspective. If he pushed forward, Dagoth would end up in a corner, with nowhere to go with his lies. If he were to find out what Dagoth really was up to, thus if he could be trusted, he had to find a flaw. "You worship our ancestors, the Daedra, and support the destiny Azura claims she has bestowed upon me? What then, do you think of the part where I defeat you? Do you support that destiny as well?"

The hesitation was there for merely a moment, but it was definitely there. "Were you there when Azura came to us? Did you hear her words? How do you know she said that? Consider the source, consider who has slandered me so. It was the Tribunal and the Imperials, the only ones whom I threaten. What proof of my malicious intent exists? What proof do you have that you can trust those same people? You know you can't trust them, I know that much about you."

"Proof of your malicious intent?" Raedyn mused. "What of Corprus?" Seeing that zombie was the first time he began to believe something actually was sealed within Red Mountain.

"Though their power is waning, the Tribunal has enough power still to pervert my gifts into curses."

That was answered very quickly. Either he used that excuse enough, maybe on his own followers, or it was the truth.

"I will let you go for now." Dagoth stated, though he sounded somewhat thin in patience. "Think on my words, question why you would trust them over me." With that, the candles in the room were snuffed, and the world returned to darkness.

0000000000

Raedyn slowly opened his eyes, and found himself lying on the ground, back where he was before passing out. His clothes and armor were half dry now, and it was approaching evening. Dagoth obviously wanted something out of him, of that he was certain. He sought his alliance, most likely, but it could have been something more. Maybe it was to gain his trust, so when he killed the Tribunal he would be an easy target to dispose of. There was likely little else Dagoth could use him for other than to kill. Then he saw little point in going to the Urshilaku Camp if he was good for nothing else.

_No!_ He scolded himself. _Stop that! Thinking like that won't help you, just stay focused!_

He got up on his hands, and then sat upright, reconsidering his options. With every motive he could think for his potential enemies, and every foreseeable outcome for this mess he was in, going to the Urshilaku Camp was still the safest option.

Sighing, Raedyn stood up, dusted himself off, and started walking north. Once he hit the coast, he would follow it east to the camp.

0000000000

The sun was mere hours away from the western horizon, yet waves of heat rose still from the ashen lands, oft leaving Raedyn to ponder which was water and which was mirage, and if such a mirage cloaked the camp he sought, likely mocking him and his supposed destiny. He walked far along the coast, being careful of diseased skalks and guar, and once he hid from a Clannfear, apparently originating from the Daedric ruins far inland, yet still visible due to their tall, faded ebony towers. He wouldn't have been surprised if he had walked right past the camp, with his state of mind.

He was tired. The shock of his apparent destiny still hung heavy on him, and the mantel of savior was one he wasn't sure he would ever wear well, or ever want to. A day-long trek, innumerable Cliffracers and other local fauna, then one more death on his hands, and the threat of martyrdom left him exhausted. It occurred to him that, as Nerevarine, he would likely have to kill again, and not just Dagoth Ur and his minions. There were enough people on Vvardenfell who devoured the Temple's every word with such zeal that they would die trying to kill him given the order and chance.

At one time, the thought of killing to protect himself didn't fill him up with fear like it did then. Seven years of cold cells, shackles, dangerous inmates and late night beatings engraved deeply into his soul a fear of killing. All he ever asked for was to be left alone to his own self-imposed disparity, his own loneliness.

Raedyn sighed. At times like this, he wished he would stop thinking. Damn that Caius. That manipulative human wanted him to spend more time thinking, and he succeeded. Why did the Imperials have to be so damn good at what they did?

As his inner ramblings died down, Raedyn became vaguely aware of the acrid smell of smoke. Following it, he discovered a large, shallow hollow where a dozen domes of stretched animal hides stood. A dozen more Dunmer paced through the encampment, with a few children either keeping to themselves, running around playing simple games, or helping the adults with whatever they could help with. There was one larger dome, which was actually an awning covering five domes, or 'yurts' Zainsubani had called them.

Taking in a breath to calm his nerves, he walked toward the village. The sight of him approaching was quickly noticed, and the repercussions were swift. Adults started rounding up the children, some became fearful or scornful at the sight the outsider, while some of the children tried to break free from the grasps restraining them to see this exciting new sight. Many other adults tried to round up their foodstuffs or sundries protectively and return to their yurts, either for protection or to put the outsider out of their minds. Others, still, made visible the dreugh or chitin weapons they possessed, showing that they were willing to fight for their land.

Raedyn tried to not move too fast or jerky. He walked to within ten feet of one Dunmer, this one with darker clothes and thick muscles with a smithy's apron on, and put his travel pack on the ground. Following the instructions for respectful introductions Zainsubani told him, Raedyn bowed his head while keeping his torso straight up with his eyes closed, showing that he willingly left himself open to any attack they might attempt, and said, "Under sun and sky, I come to you, Children of Veloth."

The Dunmer didn't look impressed. Upon hearing his accent, the smithy's wary glare turned to one of disgust. "And why would an Outlander come to us? Speak quickly!"

He hadn't considered creating reasons for coming to the camp. He had hoped to meet with Sul-Matuul quickly after arriving. Raedyn started talking before he had fully decided whether to tell the truth or lie, "I uh, came to this camp to, well…I'm here to test myself against the Nerevarine Prophecies."

The smith took on a scornful expression, and spat at Raedyn's feet. "We'll have no dealings with the likes of you." He turned and walked over to, what Raedyn assumed to be, his yurt.

Raedyn sighed, half out of relief that hadn't become violent, and half exasperation from how it did turn out._ That could have worked better._ He continued through the encampment, and while keeping a respectful, and safe, distance from the Ashlanders, continued to ask to have an audience with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa. Half an hour later, he was directed to Zabamund's yurt, and that was only because he gave the hungry Dunmer all the Kwama eggs he had. Zabamund nearly barked with laughter at the notion that Raedyn believed he could fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecies, and flat out stated that the fulfillment of the prophecies wasn't some game a settled, Imperialist Dunmer could partake for entertainment. Having seen the impoverished state of the camp, Raedyn offered two hundred gold, nearly a fifth of everything he had, as a contribution to 'his fellow Velothi'. Somewhat surprising to Raedyn, Zabamund took the donation as neither a bribe nor as what he claimed it to be, but as a sign of his sobriety. He arranged an audience with Sul-Matuul, but Raedyn got the feeling Zabamund didn't believe it would make any difference.

Upon entering the Ashkhan's yurt, Raedyn found the tribal chief himself. He appeared to be in his latter part of his middle years, perhaps closing in on his forth century. He wore various pieces of enchanted clothing and armor, with a rather elegant Orchish ax at his belt, as well as what looked like a tiara made out of a single bone atop his head. "Under Hearth and Star, I bid you welcome, Outlander." Though his voice lacked warmth and welcome, it at least lacked condescendence.

Raedyn bowed, just as he did when he first entered the camp, and replied, "Your welcome honors me."

"My Champion, Zabamund claims you wish to speak with our Wisewoman and I, and that you wish to be tested against the Nerevarine Prophecies. This is a most puzzling occurrence, and one not to be treated lightly so I ask plainly: why should I believe you may fulfill the Prophecies?"

"There are those who claim I have the appearance of the Nerevarine." Raedyn answered. He could not let them know it was the Emperor who made this claim. "I know not who they are, but I know their knowledge of the Prophecies is vast, and I wish to know for myself as well." He took a small breath, "I wish to join the Nerevarine Cult."

It was a few moments before the stoic Ashkhan replied, "You request the impossible. We cannot induct Outlanders into the Nerevarine Cult."

"What of a Clanfriend?" Raedyn asked.

Sul-Matuul paused at this notion. "A possibility, perhaps, but why should you be made Clanfriend to the Urshilaku? As you stand, you have neither standing nor reputation preceding you."

_Think Raedyn, think._ He had to come up with something quick. No mere favor nor 'contribution' would do here. He had to recall everything Zainsubani had taught him. Within a few seconds, he found an answer, but it was a risky one. He took a deep breath, and said, "I have no standing amongst you now, and I wish to rectify that. I challenge you for the sake of my honor." Zainsubani had mentioned that while challenges for sport could be turned down, declining challenges for honor was dishonorable.

Sul-Matuul's raised eyebrow, the largest physical expression he had made since they met, told Raedyn his challenge surprised the Ashkhan. A few seconds of silence passed, and the Ashkhan replied, "A most bold challenge, even for one so young and claiming to be Nerevar-Incarnate. For warriors of my experience, the clashing of weapons reveals more than words could." He fixed Raedyn with a scrutinizing eye for several seconds before saying, "Very well, I accept your challenge. If you win, you shall be pronounced Clanfriend, and only then will we discuss this 'destiny' of yours." He stared toward the yurt's exit, and as he passed Raedyn, he said, "If you lose, it will be up to me alone to decide what you are in the eyes of the Urshilaku."

_What did that mean?_ He wondered as he followed the Ashkhan out of the yurt and to the edges of the camp. Several Ashlanders gave quizzical and curious glances as they made their way to the Ashlands. Many of the ones who didn't rally their children back to their yurts earlier were doing so now, while some encouraged the little ones to watch, to see what a real fight was like.

They reached the edges of the hollow, and up on the elevated rim, the Ashkhan shifted and rotated his shoulders, loosening himself up for the fight. Raedyn went over tactics in his head. This Ashkhan probably had a couple hundred years experience over him, yet Raedyn had a weapon with better reach, a shield, and better armor. He didn't have head or thigh protection, though. He would have to be mindful of his head, and extra quick with his legs, and not bend them too much as that presented too easy of a target. His opponent had only chitin gauntlets and boots, but had an Orcish ax. That would be a problem. Swords are not meant to block strikes from something as heavy as an ax, and his shield might not be enough if the Ashkhan had a powerful swing. And yet, Sul-Matuul was minimally armored. He was probably very fast and good at evasion rather than stationary defense.

Raedyn pulled his sword from its sheath, and readied himself. He would have to be patient, methodical, let Sul-Matuul come to him.

The Urshilaku Ashkhan pulled his silvery ax from its belt-loop, and started swinging it lazily from side to side. He slowly started circling Raedyn, the swinging of his ax and his step both showing a laid back demeanor, but his eyes showed intense focus, the eyes of a predator fighting a deadly prey.

Raedyn turned his shielded arm to the Ashkhan, and kept that side to the older Dunmer as he was circled, taking occasional steps to slowly close the distance. The younger Dunmer's foot suddenly slipped on a rock. Out of reflex, Raedyn looked down to help him regain complete balance, and instantly realized the mistake he made. Before he could lift his eyes back to his opponent, he already started a step away from Sul-Matuul, and realized he hadn't acted too soon, as the older Dunmer had covered the distance between them faster than Raedyn had thought possible, and was barely able to raise his shield to block on time.

The blow nearly collapsed his arm, and he had to dig his foot into the ground to stay standing. Using that leverage, he took a step to circle Sul-Matuul away from his ax-wielding hand, and swung his sword, fully intending to stop the blade short of the Ashkhan's neck. He was in for a surprise, as his opponent's left hand came up and grabbed Raedyn's forearm in an iron grip, stopping it in place.

Realizing he could still move his wrist, he swung the blade between the two of them, and moved it toward Sul-Matuul, only to find the green blade caught in the nook between the haft and head of the Ashkhan's ax. Almost instantly, Sul-Matuul moved forward, pushing his ax forward toward the side of Raedyn's head, which pulled the blade toward his throat. Out of desperation, Raedyn lifted his supporting leg, and before falling to the ground, he kicked his opponent away, and found it was like kicking a wall. He moved himself away more than pushed he opponent away.

Using his legs in a wide sweep that Caius taught him, he pulled himself onto his feet in a crouch fast without using his hands so he could keep them on the defense. He had expected Sul-Matuul to be on him immediately this time. Raedyn pushed his shield forward into the Ashkhan. To make it impossible to reach out with his weapon and to possibly push him back was only part of the simple tactic Rithleen taught him, as it also temporarily blinded the opponent, and hopefully distract him, as Raedyn once again circled Sul-Matuul away from his weapon-bearing arm. A minor delay in reactions was all he needed.

In the moment as he readied his swing, he saw the Ashkhan's eyes on him, and realized the tactic hadn't and wouldn't work. He was going to stop the blade short, but decided not to this time, as the Ashkhan would have to block it, and then he would do what he could to exploit the reaction from there. Only the Ashkhan didn't move as the blade swung down on him fast. A jolt of panic ran through Raedyn as he realized this, but was even more shocked as the blade _bounced off his head!_

With Raedyn momentarily paralyzed from surprise, the Ashkhan reacted instantly by using the nook between the haft and head of his ax to throw his opponent's green blade, not away from his body to open his defenses, but into his body. He quickly followed through by swinging his right leg behind Raedyn's, and then put the nook of his ax against his throat. Using those two points of leverage, he threw and tripped Raedyn to the ground, where he slammed onto the ground hard.

The Ashkhan quickly followed through by stepping over his sword-wielding arm so it was between his legs. He then crouched, and keeping his feet in the same place, spun around until his thighs pressed together, with Raedyn's arm trapped between them. He swung his ax down, and stopped it half an inch from the younger Dunmer's nose.

Raedyn let out a sigh of defeat. He had lost. He knew he couldn't be considered an expert swordsman, but he hadn't expected such a gap between them. He thought fighting smart would give him a fighting chance, but it was clear that even with every advantage he might come up with, a great stroke of luck still might not have been enough. Rather than humiliated or frustrated, he found himself feeling strangely relieved, especially at the thought that the true Nerevarine would have to be a much better fighter than that.

"You lost." Sul-Matuul stated, monotonously, informatively rather than gloatingly.

"Yes I did." Raedyn replied, equally factually. "And I shall surrender myself to your judgement." This time, he said that in a meek, defeated tone. "But before that, how did my sword bounce off your head?"

"You think of armor only as you can see it." The Ashkhan replied. He held up one of his chitin gauntlets, and in the waning sunlight, Raedyn could see a reflective gloss that would be out of place on normal chitin armor.

"An enchantment?" Raedyn half asked, half stated.

"An Alteration spell, Shield. It deflects fast attacks, while it does not hinder slow ones. Did you think I could become Ashkhan without armor? Outlander, deception is the sharpest blade of all." He slid the haft of his ax back into his belt, and then extended his hand to help the Dunmer up.

Raedyn accepted, and the two slowly returned to the village. "You are strange, Outlander. Your judgment and reflexes and warrior spirit exceeds your skills, when in every warrior I have thus-far met, all these aspects were in equal quantities. You are a mystery, Otheril, one I would like to inspect. I will have a bed-roll made ready for you. You may stay with us for the next three nights. On the third morning, if I have not found good reason to declare you Clanfriend, you will leave and never return."

"I understand." Raedyn responded quietly.

0000000000

As evening blanketed the Ashlands and the hours started ticking away, Raedyn thought about a lot of things: his future, his past, how he might convince Sul-Matuul to let him become Clanfriend, what he would do if he did, what he would do if he didn't, about his own inadequacy as some iconic savior. For most of these dilemmas, he could not come up with any answers or solutions. He bought spare bread and water from the Ashlanders, and spent long hours trying to find sleep, as a Blight Storm beat at the spare yurt he was given. When sleep came, it was tainted with troubled dreams.

He dreamt that Azura came to him in his sleep, speaking honey and lullabies into his ears while taking him out for a walk. Some time into their walk, he realized they were walking straight toward Red Mountain. He turned around, and saw, far behind them, the town Raedyn and his mother lived in. A toddler Raedyn waddled around the cobblestone street, his mother holding his hands from above to keep him from falling.

He tried to run back, but Azura grabbed him by the neck, and continued to drag him toward the mountain. He struggled fiercely, but as Azura's grip tightened, he started to feel himself being pulled by something else, as if the mountain itself was sucking in all the air around it. As the two reached the top, Azura let go of him, and the vacuum pulled him clean off his feet, over the edge, and down into the lava.

He was back in his cell, with his dying mother lying on the lone cot. Every time she tried to smile at him or say something kind, she went into a coughing fit. Seven years passed before his eyes, she didn't die, didn't improve, she just stayed there in limbo, forever suffering as he remained behind lock and key.

From town to town, little Raedyn searched for Dunmer with his name, or for help finding his family. So many failed searches, so much frustration and fear and loneliness, he eventually shouted at the sky, "Who am I?" More and more cities and towns and villages, all rejecting him, no one willing to help, and always Raedyn shouting, "Who am I?" At last, he fell to his knees, and screamed impossibly loud, "Who am I!" He opened his eyes, and found himself in Vvardenfell, asking the same question.

Some time later, he found himself in a cemetery, alone as evening turned to night, rain mixed with fog to hide the crying child Raedyn at the foot of his mother's grave, all alone. Lost and abandoned, he cried, and continued to cry. Eventually, he was not so little anymore, yet he still cried at his mother's grave.

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In the morning, as Raedyn awoke groggy and tired, he had a breakfast of Kwama eggs he bought off the Ashlanders, wondering what he was going to do. He often saw Sul-Matuul enter the Wise Woman's yurt, probably to talk to her about their latest guest. He practiced his magic several times, but as afternoon came upon him, he was beset by boredom, and asked around the camp if there were chores or other such activities he could help with.

Over the next few hours, he helped harvest eggs from the nearby mines, grind marshmarrow into flour, wash clothes, and haul water from the Sea of Ghosts to be distilled into pure water through some alembics. It seemed everyone in the village worked constantly to stay alive. The warriors and scouts trained relentlessly to hone their skills, while hunters were gone nearly the entire day looking for meats. Everyone had such hard lives, where not working lead to death, along with the harsh environment and constant threat of disease, yet everyone seemed content.

While doing all these chores, Raedyn heard a lot about how Sul-Matuul would negotiate trade, and how he avoided conflicts with outsiders or other camps, even when they were openly threatened by the Erabenimsum warmongers. He came to realize that the Ashkhan held more than power, he held responsibility. His every decision held the lives of everyone in his camp. How could he endure such a burden? Did the Emperor also bear such responsibility? Were all leaders similarly burdened?

After hauling his sixth load of seawater, two buckets held with a wooden pole held across his shoulders, to the village, he took a minute to sit down, catch his breath and massage the ache out of his shoulders. As he did this, he watched as a few of the camp's children played a simple game that involved kicking a stone. A few of the little ones started playing rough, and eventually started wrestling each other. A few of them stayed out of the debacle, not so interested in getting roughed up. Soon, concerned parents came and broke up the action.

Raedyn smiled while watching this. It reminded him of several moments when he caused trouble as a child, similarly playing rough with the few Dunmer kids in his town or one of the few kids of the other races who wanted to play with a Dark Elf. He smiled in memory at the troubles and worries he occasionally gave his mother; those were some of the happiest memories he had.

"Enjoy watching our children, Outlander?" Sul-Matuul's inquiring voice shook him out of his reverie.

"I'm enjoying my memories, actually." He returned his attention back to the children as their parents ushered them back to their respective yurts. After several seconds, Raedyn decided to speak what had been plaguing his mind, "How can you handle it: knowing every decision might bring about disaster for them all?"

"The patience to not make rash decisions, the humbleness to not think of my benefit or pride, the confidence to act without hesitation, as well the wisdom to know when I must have restraint, and the discipline to do what I know must be done." Sul-Matuul answered, his voice with conviction, yet slightly melancholy.

Raedyn sighed, "And I have none of those things. Some Nerevarine I'm turning out to be. You know what? You Ashlanders have it rather well. You can survive the heat, you can shield yourselves against the Blight Storms, and you can fight any enemy you fear. The one you fear the most is not yourself."

Some times passed before Sul-Matuul slowly said, "You truly are most puzzling, Otheril. It is not for your glory that you seek the Prophecies, and from your words now, it seems to me that you do not wish to be the Nerevarine."

Raedyn scoffed. "Why would I want such a thing? I would avoid this conflict if I could, but I can't. What choice do I have but to go forward? And that's what scares me: I don't know how this will end."

Sul-Matuul stepped in front of him, squatted down on the balls of his feet until he was almost eye-level with Raedyn, and said, "And that is why you are more worthy than most: you are afraid. The greatest fools deny their fears and ignore caution, and in doing so invite disaster to all around them. Humbleness and wisdom has their roots in mistakes and fear; you may yet become a great leader. I hereby name you Clanfriend of the Urshilaku. You may see Nibani Maesa whenever you please." He then stood up, and left Raedyn alone with his thoughts.

After some time, Raedyn chuckled. The Ashlanders were certainly strange, but as hard as it was to understand them, he was starting to like them.

0000000000

Farens Dren pulled the ebony shortsword out of the conjurer's midsection several seconds after the unfortunate researcher passed on. In the dimness of the caverns of Ibar-Dad, the _Knower_ knew nighttime was approaching, judging from how long he had been down there. It was only the Morag Tong's code of honor and conduct that kept him from storming the camp and slitting that demon's throat in his sleep.

He wanted so bad to know when that bastard would leave those filthy hide roofs so he could finish him off. As it was, if he were to kill Otheril and be caught, his authority would mean nothing to those barbarians, and that was where this benighted, backwards code stopped him, for he could not kill unmarked people in a situation he started.

He had found this cavern where two mages had conjured a dozen scamps to work for them, for whatever purpose they took to their graves, and decided it would be here where he would wait for Otheril to leave the camp. He couldn't wait much longer. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would go to the camp and find Otheril, and then do all he could to kill him, wherever he was hiding.

Farens heard a scrapping off in the distance. The scamps were still working.

Yes, tomorrow he would resume the hunt. But for now, nighttime had fallen, and he could refine his skills on a different prey.

0000000000

Raedyn pushed aside the cloth door as gently as he could as he entered the Wise Woman's yurt. Inside he found a female Dunmer, probably nearing her middle years, wearing a modest robe, and surrounded by equally modest possessions. Raedyn had expected something unusual to mark her yurt as different.

"You are Raedyn Otheril, yes?" She asked him.

"Yes, Wise Woman." He said, closing his eyes and bowing his head only, just like when he first entered the camp.

"An Outlander seeing an Ashlander Wise Woman, with aspirations of fulfilling our most sacred of prophesies; that is not something I would normally approve of." She gave a sigh of mild exasperation. "But that is what my Lord Ashkhan wishes, and what my Lord Ashkhan asks, I must obey. Sit, _sera_, and let us talk."

Raedyn did as she asked, sitting on a thick, brown cushion on a small square rug, while she sat on a cushion on a different rug. "Tell me of yourself. Tell me of why you wish to test yourself against these prophecies. Tell me of your childhood. Tell me of your experiences. Do not hold back, and do not worry, for what you say here will not leave my yurt. Though I obey my Lord Ashkhan, this is my yurt, thus it is not his business."

Raedyn started considering his options. He could tell her the whole truth, but him being an Imperial agent may alienate or even threaten her. On the other hand, if she caught him in a lie, that could do as bad, or possibly worse. He was good with lies if he thought them up ahead of time, but not on the spot, and he wasn't good at sticking to them. If these prophecies were true, then he needed her trust most of all.

He took a deep breath and started telling her about his life: what he remembered of his childhood and his mother, what he went through as a child orphan looking for his family, how he lived on the streets into his adolescence, and his imprisonment. Nibani Maesa's attention was undivided to begin with, but she became even more attentive as he explained the events surrounding his drafting into and activities within the Blades. He even explained his reaction to the news that the Imperials believed he could become the Nerevarine.

When he was finally done, Nibani Maesa stayed quiet for several minutes in deep thought, leaving Raedyn to think upon whether he did the right thing or not. When she finally did speak, she spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully, "You are most different than what I expected, Outlander. Life never ceases to catch you from the shadows. I will share our Prophecies with you, if you would wish and listen. Or I can tell you my judgment if you are impatient."

"I…I would like to hear the Prophecies first, please." Raedyn answered. He almost asked for her verdict, he desperately wanted to know, but the thought also scared him.

"Very well, I shall start with the most well known of the Prophecies: _The Stranger_." Nibani Maesa cleared her throat, and spoke, "When Earth is sundered and skies chocked black, and Sleepers serve the seven curses, to the hearth there comes a stranger, journeyed far 'neath moon and star. Though stark-born to sire uncertain, his aspect marks his certain fate. Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him. Prophets speak, but all deny. Many trials make manifest the Stranger's fate, the curses' bane. Many touchstones try the Stranger. Many fall, but one remains." Her back straightened as she continued. "Some of these words I understand, some I don't. Is there any part you wish to understand more clearly?"

Raedyn didn't like half of what was said: skies chocked black, curses, wicked stalking him. He asked about the first line, to which was responded that it likely referred to Red Mountain. She had mentioned rumors she had heard about members of the Sixth House cult called Sleepers. That remark made Raedyn go cold. She further explained the 'seven curses' she spoke of was part of a prophecy now forgotten. She then continued to the next prophecy.

"The full name of this prophecy is '_Seven Visions of Seven Trials of the Incarnate_'. The overture goes as such, 'What he puts his hand to, that shall be done. What is left undone, that shall be done.' The first trial states, 'On a certain day to uncertain parents, Incarnate moon and star reborn.' That 'certain day' has been passed down as the month you were born. This does not mean anything definitive, as many share your birthdate, and many are without parents. The second trial goes, 'Neither blight nor age can harm him. The Curse-of-the-flesh before him flies.' I am unsure as to how one can not be harmed by age or the blight disease. The 'Curse-of-the-flesh' likely refers to Corprus. The third trial, 'in caverns dark, Azura's eye sees and makes to shine the moon and star.' In this stanza, there lies secrets of the Urshilaku that I cannot give out freely, so do not ask. The forth trial, "A Stranger's voice unites the Houses. Three halls call him Hortator.'" She then explained to him what a Hortator was.

"The fifth trial states, 'A Stranger's hand unites the Velothi. Four Tribes call him Nerevarine.' Dunmer are the Velothi, all Dunmer, House and Ashlanders. The 'Four Tribes' refers to the Ashlander tribes. The sixth trial, 'He honors blood of the tribe unmourned. He eats their sin, and is reborn.' The 'tribe unmourned' could be either house Dagoth, as their sin was betrayal, or the Dwemer, who's sin is blasphemy. Now, the seventh trial, 'His mercy frees the cursed false gods, binds the broken, redeems the mad.'"

"The 'cursed false gods' refers to the Tribunal, right?" Raedyn asked.

"There have occasionally been alternate theories, but that one is the most widely believed. There is one last part, entitled 'One Destiny.' It says, 'He speaks the law for Veloth's people. He speaks for their land, and names them great.' The Nerevarine will be a leader, one who stands up for the Dunmer and leads them to the greatness they knew back in the first Era."

"These prophecies often mention a 'moon and star'. What is that?" Raedyn asked.

"House Indoril's standard, or sigil as the Imperial's call them, is a moon and star. The Prophecies state that this Stranger will bare the moon and star, but in what form is unknown."

This made Raedyn feel somewhat relieved, as he could think of nothing on him that resembled a moon and star. "Alright, I understand most of that, but what of the, uh…overture, was that what it was called?"

"'What he puts his hand to, that shall be done. What is left undone, that shall be done.' Nerevar Indoril promised the tribes to honor their ways. What Nerevar started, the Nerevarine will finish. The Incarnate cannot fail. He must not fail."

What relief Raedyn had felt before was offset by the gravity of her words. He knew this supposed destiny of his was important, but it didn't put him at ease to hear it in words how important it was. Raedyn steeled himself, and finally asked what he had been holding back, "Do you think I am the Nerevarine?"

Nibani straightened herself slightly, and said, "You are not the Nerevarine, yet you may become the Nerevarine. You are much like how my Lord Ashkhan has described you: a puzzle, and a difficult one at that. As I have said, you do not resemble what I had envisioned the Nerevarine to be. You fear this destiny greatly, though I do not know if that is good or not. If you turn out to be a mere coincidence, your presence has merited us one important revelation: our knowledge is too limited. If you should pursue this path, we will need more. We need the _Lost Prophecies_ and the _Seven Curses_."

"But I thought you said they were forgotten." Raedyn stated, confused, as well as slightly agitated. He came all this way for an answer, and he that was the only answer he got?

"We have sought these prophecies or many years, and we have heard rumor that a group of your settled folk may have written copies of them. The Dissident Priests, they were known as. They have been friends with the Ashlanders, especially the Nerevarine Cult, ever since they were founded. If you would help us, seek them out."

Raedyn, sitting on his cushion, looked at the ground between them. After a minute, he said, "I will look into that. I will leave tomorrow morning to consult with my spymaster."

"Then stay here the night." Maesa offered. "It would be my honor to provide the hearth for our Clanfriend."

Raedyn nodded. "I shall do that. And…thank you, for trusting me so."

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The next morning, after being assured by Nibani Maesa and Sul-Matuul that the camp wouldn't migrate soon, Raedyn placed a Mark outside the camp so he could return quickly, and used an Intervention scroll to warp to Gnisis.

Later that afternoon, Farens made his way to the Urshilaku Camp. His mind was cold as ice, the calm in the center of a raging hurricane, and approached the nearest Ashlander with the best easy-going smile he could muster. "Greetings, fellow Velothi." He said as jovially as he could, hiding his deeply engraved hatred for Ashlanders. "I'm sure you're busy, so I'll be quick. I'm looking for a friend, Raedyn Otheril, I heard he was coming here, is he still around?"

The Ashlander harrumphed, and started walking away. Fast and sudden as lightning, Farens pressed his palm into the Ashlander's back, casting his strongest Charm spell. As the spell took effect, the Morag Tong _Knower_ grabbed the Ashlander's shoulder and viciously turned him around to talk face-to-face. At this point, several Ashlanders took notice of the violent action. "Where…is…he?" He accentuated every word with malice.

"He…he left several hours ago. He didn't say where." The following sounds the Dunmer made were gargles as Farens pierced the Ashlander all the way through the neck with his short sword, then pulled it back, cutting through the carotid arteries, the jugular, and the throat. Farens paid no mind to the blood he was suddenly soaked in, as several Ashlanders moved about in panic, calling for their warriors and their Ashkhan.

His fury temporarily abated, he recognized he wouldn't survive a brawl, and used a Recall spell to return to the Ibar-Dad cavern. _I will get you, Raedyn Otheril. You and your Ashlanders will burn in my fury._

End of Chapter Seven.

Author's Notes: Sorry that took so long. I guess that, besides the writers block, I just needed a break. Don't worry; I'm fairly confident I'll be on track for a couple of chapters. The next arc is one I'm rather excited about. For those of you expecting Raedyn to go to the Urshilaku burial tombs, sorry, but that served little purpose to the story other than to distract gamers and to give you access to Mages Bane, one cool ass mofo of a sword…anyways, I couldn't see any extension of the story there other than maybe making a confrontation between Raedyn and Farens there, and I didn't want that to be other with, or happen for that matter, so soon. Don't worry, it'll happen. And in case you didn't notice, Farens has a problem with Ashlanders too. Why? You'll have to find out.

BTW, I hope you all appreciate that I wrote the last five pages when I could have been playing God of War II.


	8. The Nightmare Begins

Author's Notes: I'm sorry it took so long for me to write this one. The last month has been hectic and pretty rough. First I got laid off my job, then got two job applications turned down. I found out then that a certain incident from when I was sixteen, which should have been cleared from my record when I turned eighteen, was still showing up on my criminal background searches. Currently, we're trying to find some legal counseling for that. Then the worst of them all happened: one of my best friends, a guy I've known for seventeen years, was hospitalized from drug overdose, and he doesn't show any signs of having learned a lesson from that fiasco. Yeah, so the last month had some stressful times.

**Chapter Eight: The Nightmare Begins…**

Raedyn finally arrived in Bamora late at night. After spending the night in his usual bed at the South Wall Corner Club, he met Caius in his house and started his debriefing. After he was done, Caius was quiet for a few minutes, digesting this information. "It will take some time and careful planning for Mehra Milo to get you the information the Ashlanders seek. It may take several days."

In his chair, he reached under his mattress and pulled out a piece of paper with coded Imperial writing. "In the mean time…I have a job that might require your attention." He put down the paper, and hesitantly looked at Raedyn across the table. "This is a serious task, one you should think about before undertaking, so listen well."

Raedyn nodded for him to continue, sitting straighter in his chair. "We've received reports of a Sixth House base in a cave called 'Ilunibi' near Gnaar Mok, run by a beast-man called Dagoth Gares, if I understand it correctly. The Legion at Fort Buckmoth has already sent a garrison into the place, and apparently only one returned before dying. I want you to go to Fort Buckmoth and talk to Champion Raesa Pullia there about this matter. You don't have to worry about discreetness, she knows me. I already told her I would send someone to investigate this.

"I want you to learn about this 'Ilunibi' cave, and take whatever measures you deem necessary to fulfill the mission's objectives." He looked at Raedyn, more serious than he ever looked before, "The mission objectives are as follows: infiltrate the Sixth House base, acquire whatever information you can find detailing shipping, resources, number of followers, or other Sixth House bases, and assassinate Dagoth Gares."

Raedyn didn't say anything for a minute, just looked at the table separating them. _This is a serious mission._ He thought. It would be very difficult indeed; unknown enemy numbers and strength, he would be engaging them on their own terms, and he had virtually no experience in this sort of subterfuge. Strangely, the thing that bothered him the most was the assassination part, and the fact that there would likely be a lot of killing to get to him.

The thought of killing sent chills down his spine and knots in his stomach, and filled him with a dread and despair that knew all too well. It was exactly the same as what he felt in the Imperial Prison for all those years. "Caius…" Raedyn asked, hesitantly, "…is Gares the only necessary death?"

It only took a moment for Caius to answer, "You don't want to kill, do you?" So he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was.

Raedyn sighed, but still tried to act tough, "I just don't want to fight a hundred Sleepers. I'm a messiah, not a daedra."

Caius smiled, knowingly. "If you say so. As for your question, no, Gares is the only necessary death. In fact, it may be a good idea to kill him and leave a few followers alive. If any of them know where other bases are, we can send scouts to track them after they flee."

The old man got up then, and grabbed a pouch from the chest at the foot of the bed. "Here're fifteen hundred drakes," he handed the gold to Raedyn, then continued in a curt tone, "and some advice: if you have a problem with killing, consider doing something about it. Information gathering is far from the only duty we have in the Blades. And consider this, especially: if you fulfill the Prophesies, do you believe you can do it without killing? If you are the Nerevarine, then Talos help us, there _will_ be blood and death before the end."

Raedyn tried hard not to let the Imperial's words affect him. "But why me, anyways? This seems more like a job for the elite."

"Part of it is convenience, part of it necessity." Caius answered. "You have, on numerous occasions, shown adequate combat skills, such as when you beat that Ordinator without a weapon, and you have demonstrated intelligence and stratagems when faced with that Morag Tong assassin. Those are the skills necessary, the only thing you lack is experience, which you won't get without missions like this. You need to acquire this experience; as well as lose this hesitation to kill you seem to have."

"That's none of your business." Raedyn stated, anger starting to stir within him.

"Your abilities and disabilities _are_ my business, Otheril!" Caius retorted. There was no anger in his voice, only strict authority. "Your reasons are your own business, but for the sake of the Blades, this mission, and your own well being, you need to learn to push them aside."

Raedyn fixed the Imperial with a glare, one that didn't faze the old man in any visible way. He was angry; partially due to the Caius' audacity, but mostly, and he didn't want to admit it, because he knew the old man had a point.

He sighed. "Give me some time to think about it."

"You have until tomorrow." Caius answered, before sitting down at the table and began reading new reports.

Taking Caius's unspoken cue, Raedyn stood up, and walked out of the old man's house.

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Raedyn spent the rest of the morning wandering Balmora, thinking, trying to clear his mind, trying not to think. He knew Caius had a point, he had been given the easy assignments so far, but his pride kept telling him that the man had been wrong in some way, wronged him in some way, was expecting too much of him or was being unfair. He knew he was just trying to justify his anger to cover up his fear.

By midday, he walked into the Mages Guild to see if there was anything that needed doing. When he found only jobs that would take several days to complete, days he didn't have, he walked out and left the city. He made his way south, along the small mountain range, (or would they be considered large hills?) fighting off whatever critters he found.

Cave rats, scuttles, nix-hounds, kwama foragers, anything that came toward him met a swift end. Along the way, he knew he would need more than combat skills against something like a Sixth House base. He unlatched his shield and tied it around his torso, conjured up a dagger in his left hand, and started practicing with it in hand as if it were a main-gauche.

_Yeah right,_ he thought, _maybe if someone managed to break my shield._ He called off the dagger, and put his shield back on. He realized he was short of breath after those light exercises. He was really out of shape. Back in Cyrodiil, he could outrun the typical guard, but after been locked in a small cell for seven years, long walks or short dashes exhausted him.

Sheathing his sword, he started sprinting a hundred feet, then walking a hundred, and repeated the process. He found the bridge over the Odai River, and crossed it. He continued switching from sprinting to walking, never letting himself fully catch his breath. He continued to fight whatever creatures thought he looked tasty, the larger ones often leaving him so short of breath it hurt.

Within an hour, he found the hills bordering the Foyada Mamaea. He found the most level path, which was still very steep, and ran up it, the excursion burning his lung and thighs, bringing tears to his eyes. When he finally got to the bottom of the Foyada, he continued to move north, making his way to the path leading around Fort Moonmoth and back to Balmora.

It was sunset when he got back, and the exercise helped burn away the bad mood. He knew why he was angry. Before he found out why he had been sent to Vvardenfell, he started to become content with life there, before the news of this 'destiny' turned the world upside down. Now, the ones who helped him find a semi-comfortable life were asking him to risk his life for something that seemed so…trivial.

The Sixth House, the Tribunal, the Nerevarine Prophesies, he wanted to think of them as trivial; just something he could whisk to the side and ignore. He laughed when he realized this: he really hadn't changed. He still wanted to run from his problems, not try to solve them.

Suddenly, an urge came over him. He made his way over to uptown Balmora. He went into one of the guard towers, and asked the Mer inside if he could go on the roof. When he was given permission, he found himself with an incredible view of Balmora. Under the moonlight, it looked so peaceful, the soft undulating reflections of the river, the glow from torches so small they looked like candles from there. He wished he could stay right there, separated, observing, alone, with nothing else he needed to do or nowhere else he needed to go.

Again, he was running from his problems. And he knew the true problem; it was not just the fear of death, but the fear of killing. Seven years behind bars could etch the notes even into ebony. It was like a concert, the dripping of water: the orchestra, the rustling of irons and chains: the band, the threats and insults of the wardens: the chorus, the screams of the tortured: the crescendo, all in a never ending, omnipresent symphony repeating the same litany: Kill and Thou Shalt Suffer.

It was little wonder he had a problem with taking another's life. And how could Caius understand that? He wasn't there! He didn't endure those seven years of bad water, moldy bread, ever present bodily wastes and nightly beatings. What in Oblivion gave him the right to judge him, to tell him to straighten himself out?

_Because he is right._ He knew that, as much as he hated it. Only death awaited him if he stayed put, and the only hope he had was to move forward, and he knew that too. This reluctance to kill, his reluctance to make progress in his life, was holding him back and causing far more problems than they solved, he knew that all too well, and he knew the only way he was going to overcome such problems was to face them. He also knew that this operation was very important, not only for the prophesies and the stability of the area to stop a civil war that could kill half of Morrowind, but now, it was important for him as well.

He sighed. Gods damn that Imperial bastard, why did he always have to be right?

0000000000

Walking out of the rain, Farens Dren made his way intently, his gait and visage that of death, into the Arena Canton's waistworks. Several patrons and denizens moved to give him passage, some out of politeness, some to avoid touching one soaked as he was, while some yet noticed the atmosphere the pervaded his appearance. He looked at nothing except where he went, he moved for no one, not even slowing down if someone was in front of him.

One of the occupants of the waistworks, a large Nord, didn't notice the gloomy Dunmer until he walked right into him, knocking him over without even being slowed down in his bee-line to the storage rooms. Moments later, an armored hand grabbed his arm in a vise-grip.

"What was the meaning of that?" Farens turned his head to look the Ordinator in the eyes through that golden, laminated helmet. "Apologize to that man or I will charge you with assault!"

His patience spent, Farens conjured the power of Illusion, and through the arm the impudent sap was grasping, cast his most powerful Demoralize spell. Almost instantly, the powerful hand let go, and he continued on without looking back to see what became of the Ordinator. It was not his business, it was not his problem now, and it would not become his problem unless the Dunmer under that bulky armor and its inane beauty decided to make it his problem again; in which case, the Ordinators would have one less member, and the world would have one less pest to deal with.

Making his way into the Morag Tong headquarters, Farens treated any greeting or questions with the utmost disregard until he reached the Grandmaster of the order: Eno Hlaalu. He performed his debriefing with the most emotionless voice and visage he could muster, though inside his gut churned when he explained what happened to Ra'Zhan. When he finished explaining that Otheril was gone from the Urshilaku Camp in the morning, omitting his reaction to the news, he continued, "Grandmaster, I wish to keep this mark as my own. I will not fail a second time."

Grandmaster Hlaalu, ever calm and patient, raised an eyebrow slightly at this request. "Farens, I understand that Ra'Zhan was your friend, but as the leader of a legitimate and government sanctioned organization, I cannot condone revenge."

"Sir, my emotions will have no influence over my conduct or integrity." _Yet what of that Ashlander?_ A part of him wondered, but he quickly swept that thought aside.

"Dren, this Outlander knows you,"

"He might know _of_ me," Farens abruptly interrupted the Grandmaster, "but he knows not _what_ I look like." _Now you resort to lies, do you?_ "Besides, the words of that priest in Mar Gaan were rather ambiguous. Otheril might not have known there were actually two of us." _Lying more, are you? How very becoming, at least for you._

Hlaalu kept a calm gaze at the Nightblade, observing, analyzing. After several seconds, he said, "You may continue to hunt this mark, but understand that if I learn of anything suspicious, I will send word for your return. If I find the order is not fulfilled immediately, I will send for your immediate arrest, pending an evaluation. Is this understood?"

Farens bowed in a humble manner to hide his frustration. "I understand, honorable Grandmaster."

0000000000

Three days later, as evening gave way to twilight, Raedyn peered through thick ferns, observing the entrance to Ilunibi, the smugglers cave north of Gnaar Mok. After he decided accept the mission and gave the 'good news' to Caius, Raedyn arrived at Fort Buckmoth the next day and talked to the resident Champion, Raesa Pullia, about the cave. He didn't leave the fort without a sickening feeling.

"_Corprus beasts? There are Corprus beasts there?" Raedyn asked, incredulous._

"_Yes, accounts of the residents confirm it." Champion Pullia answered, in the privacy of her personal office, where they could talk about the mission and the Blades without fear of revealing confidential information. "The only survivor of the mission had contracted Corprus, we barely recognized him. It's a miracle he survived as long as he did before it killed him."_

"_Remind me to thank Caius for letting me know that little detail."_

Raedyn shook his head, clearing away the memory, and fantasies of how he would 'thank' the elderly Imperial when, and if, he returned. After taking a few breaths, he steeled himself, and walked toward the wooden door.

Opening the door quickly, but gently, he swiftly entered the cave, and shut the door behind him. Instantly, the smell of rot and decay overwhelmed him. He barely managed to take control of his gag reflex. The esophagus of the cave was rimmed with bowls of gentle flames, a sharp contrast to the peat from which it ate off. Though he had never smelled it before, he knew this was the smell of death.

Raedyn slowly walked down the tunnel, keeping to the wall and carefully scuttling around the sconces, mindful of his shadow and contrast to the walls. When he reached the bottom, Raedyn spied the room from behind a pedestal, the dancing flames offering brief views of the large cavern. This room was an intersection between two different tunnels, with water covering most of the ground. There were other occasional fires, some green. That would be good; the colors of his glass armor would blend well with the walls illuminated by those flames.

Slowly, making soft footsteps, Raedyn waded into the waters. If he were discovered, it would be difficult to run. Pressing his back to one wall, the young Mer peered down one of the tunnels, and saw a fire with two Dunmer around it, eat raw, bloody meat.

Continuing to move, Raedyn made his way down the opposite tunnel, letting his fingertips scrape against the wall to know where it was, moving slowly enough to not make large ripples in the water. He continued down until the tunnel began to turn. Taking his eyes off the Dunmer, Raedyn looked where he was heading, and saw a door bordered by two large crimson cauldrons. He waded his way toward the door faster than before, until he saw what he previously assumed to be a part of the wall move, shaping into a stick-figure humanoid. It moved in front of the door, and just stared at it.

Raedyn froze. It hadn't noticed him yet. The figure could have been Dunmer, but its skin was white-gray, a cooled ash color. Whatever it was, it was in his way. He had to kill it. He had to face this.

Raedyn slowly, quietly pulled the glass long-sword out of its sheath, and made his way toward the ashen figure. As the water became shallower, the Dunmer lifted one leg out of the water to get better footing. He suddenly realized the mistake of his action as water spilled out from his greaves, making splashes that, in that silence, was deafening.

The ashen figure turned around slowly, lethargically, mere moments before Raedyn, in a panic, lunged forward and bisected it at the waist. The being's torso fell into the water, giving off no blood. At this distance, Raedyn could see its face covered by a mask made of ash.

"N'wah." A voice growled behind him.

Raedyn spun around quickly and found a Dunmer, clothed in naught but a loincloth, with a Dreugh club in hand, rushing him, overtaking the distance between them with unnatural speed.

An overhead attack, one Rithleen had drilled Raedyn in endlessly. Reflex and muscle memory took over. A small step to the side put him out of harm's reach by mere inches, then a diagonal swipe, and his sword cut the Dunmer from shoulder to hip, cutting arteries, heart, lungs, and stomach. The release of blood was immense; liters released in gushes. The pools of water Raedyn stood in all turned crimson in mere seconds.

He had forgotten how much blood there would be. He remembered then, that overcast day in Chorrol, how much blood that Imperial bled, how piercing the screams were, how frightened he became when realization of what he had done dawned on him.

But there he was, in Vvardenfell, another life taken by him. _A necessity,_ Raedyn told himself, fighting his own pounding heart, _these creatures were beyond saving. This time, no one will hurt you for it._

Turning from the two corpses, Raedyn opened the door, and followed the smell of death, knowing, from now on, he would only add to the pile.

0000000000

Raedyn knelt down, nursing his bruised ribs after finally getting the angle needed to decapitate the hunchbacked Corprus Beast. Hearing something over his own pounding heart, he saw another of those zealous followers charging him. Each kill became a little easier, the memories of the prison cell becoming duller and duller with each death.

Raedyn conjured a dagger in his hand, and threw it at the attacker; however, the Daedric Weapon stabbed itself into the Sixth House Dunmer's club.

Half out of reflex, and half out of what felt like a time honed strategy, Readyn lifted his hand, and using a telekinesis spell, drove the club into his attackers head hard enough to collapse his skull. The surviving Dunmer shook his head, half to let go of the anxiety, and half to relieve a strange sensation that had come over him. Since his first kill, his skills have skyrocketed; he had come up with strategies, used attacks he had never thought of before, and an eerie calmness had taken hold of him. Each death shook him less, yet he took no delight in it. It was almost as if someone else was taking over.

_Voryn Dagoth, your minions reflect you poorly. For all your charisma, you cannot lead a powerful insurgence, can you?_

Voryn? Where had that name come from? What made him think that was Dagoth's given name during the War of the First Council?

He quickly pushed aside such thoughts. Better to leave them to some other time. After a few seconds to let the ache in his side subside, Raedyn stood up, shook the blood off his sword, and continued down the cavern. The smell of decay was suffocating now, leaving him feeling slightly dizzy and buzzed. He had heard of the 'buzz' that skooma gave, and wondered, for a moment, if this was what it was like.

There were two large burning cauldrons ahead, signposts to his destination. Turning the corner, he found a strange robed being looking back at him. "Welcome, Lord Nerevar." It greeted. "Or Raedyn Otheril, as you call yourself. I am Dagoth Gares, and I welcome you to Ilunibi Shrine."

Raedyn looked around the alcove with utter casualness, a slight smirk forming on his lips. For some reason, he felt…insulted by all this. "Shrine, eh? Well, muthsera, I must say, a sewage pit fits a cult of your caliber rather well."

There was no visible reaction to the statement from Dagoth Gares, but his voice was full of anger. "You would do well to mind your tongue as my Lord offers his friendship."

Raedyn looked at him as if he were a retarded Orc trying to be witty. "Friendship?"

"My Lord told me of your coming," Gares explained, now moving out to the tunnel, where they would have space, "He gave me a message to relay to you, 'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to protect. But, remembering our old friendship, I can forgive you, and raise you high in my service.'"

Raedyn scoffed as he absently pushed over a nearby ash statue with his finger tips. "Dagoth Gares, after I kill you and send your pitiful soul back to 'your Lord', tell him I'm insulted. Hiding minions in moldy caves only shows how desperate and weak he and his forces are, and that destroying him would only service to save him humiliation." Where was this anger stemming from?

Gares seemed no less perturbed then he had a minute earlier. "Nevertheless, the offer stands, and the outcome of this meeting shall be the fulcrum that tips your destiny. By taking arms against me, you take arms against my Lord. Will you raise your sword, or sheath it?"

Raedyn then shook his head and looked away, displaying his distaste and disapproval. Suddenly, he turned back and swung his sword at Dagoth Gares. He didn't expect the ash-colored priest to move out of the way almost too fast for the eye to perceive. Raedyn had to spin around and away as fast as he could to raise his shield to block the strike from those spindly, stick-like arms. The impact was like one from a Corprus Beast: he had the strength of a Gigas, and the young Dunmer found himself flying into the far wall.

Letting the pain run off him like running water, he was aware enough to move to the side to avoid Gares's fist as it rammed into the wall next to his head. Holding his shield in front of him, Raedyn rammed Gares and lifted him into the air and to the ground on his back, where he swung his sword, only to have it impact dirt.

He caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye where Gares was, and saw he was conjuring up a spell. Acting half off of instinct, Raedyn cast the strongest reflect spell he could before the crimson orb could hit him, and bounced it back into the priest's face. Despite the attack peeling layers of flesh off his face, the attack barely stunned him, only knocking him slightly off balance, but offering all the opportunity Raedyn needed.

Rushing forward, the Dunmer swung his sword with all his might upward, swinging the volcanic glass blade between Gares's legs, splitting him all the way to his chest. "Thanks for the chat." Raedyn said a moment before ripping the blade out of his adversary, spilling green gunk across the floor.

He didn't expect the monster's next action. Gares's hand shot forward, and hit Raedyn's torso. Dark cloud blasted out from the impact, and the hand continued further until the hand was _inside_ his chest! Fire burned across his torso and throughout every vein in his body. Muscles cramped, innards twisted, bones bent, and above all, agony consumed him.

He screamed. From the darkest pits of his soul, he screamed, as if trying to yell the pain out of his body. Above his own cries of pain, he heard Dagoth Gares talk; his voice mirthful and content, "As my master wills, you will come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh."

Then, Gares's body turned to ash, and Raedyn doubled over in pain, his mouth open, trying to scream, but no sound came out. Suddenly he retched, spilling the packed food he had for the trip. He retched again, and again, long after there was nothing left in his stomach. On and on it went, the burning, the dry heaves, and Raedyn praying the pain would either kill him or leave.

Eons and eternities passed by, and finally, upon the brink of madness, the pain slowly, so slowly, began to subside. The pain never entirely left him, yet he lay there, panting, shaking, curled up in a fetal position, shaken to the very soul. Then something new came. Pressure built within his body. Something within him was growing. Parts of his skin and muscles stretched, as if whatever inside was trying to break out. Unable to scream, Raedyn could only groan as parts of his arms, chest, and even his face began to bulge.

He needed help. That one solitary thought was enough to conjure up the focus to perform an Almsivi's Intervention. Moments later, he found himself on the floor in front of the Balmora Temple's entrance. Pushing away the pain as best he could, he slowly managed to get himself back onto his feet. He started toward the arched exit of the Temple courtyard, but couldn't hold his balance well enough and crashed into it before sliding to the ground.

"Sera, what's wrong?" A concerned Dunmeri voice asked.

Raedyn turned his head and saw a priest walking toward him. As soon as their eyes made contact, the priest's visage turned to fright, and he backed away.

"Help me!" Raedyn pleaded, barely managing to get the words out, moving slowly toward the priest. "Help me!"

"Get away from me!" The priest yelled at him, and ran inside the Temple.

His mind was hazed and wracked from pain. He could not think why the priest would turn in fright from him. _Caius, I must get to Caius._ Forcing whatever strength he could muster into his legs, he made his way to the nearby stairway using walking and lurching motions. He managed a few steps on the stairs, but plummeted down the rest.

When he reached the bottom, near the river and the bridge that would take him to Caius, Raedyn was aware that he was bleeding from several open wounds. Ignoring this, and focusing solely on getting to the Spymaster, Raedyn half lumbered and half crawled to the bridge. Halfway across, he collapsed from both pain and lack of breath. With his head over the edge of the bridge, he saw his own reflection. Though his vision foggy and mind hazed, they were not too hazy to know the face reflected was not his.

Both skin and eyes were too pale, the former now a light blue and latter bore only the slightest tint of red. But beyond the color, there was the lumped yellow bulge running from his ear across his jaw to his chin. This time, tears accompanied the shaking. _Corprus. I have Corprus._

Raedyn rolled over, unable to bare looking at that hideous face, and saw a dozen other faces, each looking at him as if he were Mehrunes Dagon himself. No, this wasn't happening! This couldn't be happening! Hadn't he suffered enough?

This time, rage, and pain not only in his body powered his legs as he made his way toward Caius's house. He could not recall reaching the other side of the river, he could not recall running up the steps to Caius's house, but he remembered the screams of fear as he passed people, people who no longer recognized him as anything but a monster. He remembered seeing Caius open the door for him, and look at him in shock just before he passed out.

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With a scream he lurched forward into a sitting position. Ragged breaths didn't help the burning in his chest, a burn that felt like he had run across all of Tamriel. His entire body was stiff and very sore. He had awoken from a terrible nightmare, one he no longer remembered.

Raedyn gasped as a powerful sharp pain wracked his shoulder, and when he lifted his hand to it, he found the flesh had bulged at least three inches in every direction, so much so his linen shirt had ripped. The skin was very hot and sensitive, and it felt like the muscles underneath had torn themselves apart. He couldn't move his arm.

"You're awake." A familiar Cyrodiilic accent commented. Raedyn turned his head and saw Caius on the other side of the room; a room he recognized as the small, modest one room house that was the Imperial Spymaster's home, with the Dunmer on the bed. "You've been out for two days."

Raedyn started shaking, but not from the pain or fear. The pain was coming back, and something else was happening inside his body. "Caius." Raedyn croaked.

Caius rushed over to him, and as gently as he could, put his hand on the Dunmer's shoulder and pushed him back down. "Rest. You're going to need it." He reached behind him to the pitcher on the table. "Drink this, you're likely dehydrated."

Raedyn, on his side, picked the pitcher up in unsteady hands, his body shaking so badly the water splashed over the sides. He brought it to his lips as carefully as he could, and drank, spilling much on himself and the bed. Suddenly the pitcher broke under his grip, and he was only vaguely aware of a slight pain in his palms. When he looked, he saw pieces of clay imbedded in his hands, and they were bleeding profusely.

Before Raedyn really knew what the elderly Imperial was doing, Caius had ripped up a spare sheet into strips and started wrapping up his subordinate's hands. "I'm sorry." Raedyn said.

"Don't worry about it." Caius said. Then he finished by tying them off so they wouldn't come undone, and said, "Raedyn, a lot of people saw you come to my house. Everyone in town now knows that I'm sheltering someone with Corprus."

Raedyn pulled his arms in close and scrunched his body into a fetal position. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything right, can I?" There was no anger in his melancholy voice. "And I thought things would get better when I got back, when all I did was put you in danger."

"Raedyn, I'm not blaming you!" Caius insisted, concern in his voice. "You did what you needed to do." He stood up then. "I'm going to see if I can find you some help. At the very least, I can have Nine-toes brew up an pain killer."

As soon as Caius turned around, Raedyn spoke up, his voice hoarse and pain-wracked, "You were wrong about me." He waited a few seconds as Caius turned around to look at him. "I can't be the Nerevarine. 'The-Curse-of-the-Flesh-before-him-flies', that's what Nibani Maesa said. Look," he held up his pale yellow, lump covered right arm, "I'm not immune to Corprus, like I should be."

Caius fixed him with a hard stare. "You're not dead yet, Raedyn Otheril. I didn't think you were one to give up his pride so easily." He turned and walked out of the house.

_My pride?_ Raedyn mused. _What have I ever done to take pride in?_

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Caius walked past the houses of eastern Balmora at a brisk pace. He hoped his words had gotten some kind of a rise out of his subordinate; and that would, in turn, help him try to survive. He had been in many bad situations over his thirty years of service, and he had learned long ago to never give up hope. It was not born out of optimism so much as disciplined habit.

But he was no fool, he knew the chances of Raedyn surviving, his chances of staying sane if he does survive, and overall, his chances of being cured. It would be difficult to stay optimistic in this situation, but old habited die hard.

Another habit that died hard was to not take chances, to double up or triple up on everything, as the fate of an Empire was not something to gamble with. But right then, he had no choice but to take a gamble. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

He walked down to the waterfront, and knocked on Edd Theman's door. A yell from inside told him to enter. Upon entering the domain of the former Telvanni Wizard, Caius saw the Dunmer eating at his table. "What is it now, Cosades? Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't." The elderly Imperial answered, curtly. Sometimes, one had to be forceful to get cooperation, especially with someone like Fast Eddie.

"I'm not going to help you with that beast you're hiding." He finished that sentence by stuffing a large, gravy covered piece of steak in his mouth.

"Two-hundred and fifty thousand for you to get off your ass and ask questions. Twice that much if you find something good." Caius said.

Fast Eddie stopped chewing for a few seconds in thought, then continued chewing. When he swallowed the last of it, he said, "You're really delving into the funds for this novice of yours. What's so special about him?"

He couldn't let Eddie know the truth. Being a native born, he didn't know how the wizard would take the news. "That's the difference between the Empire and the Telvanni: we don't place a price limit on life."

After a few seconds of mulling over that explanation, Fast Eddie scoffed. "Even so, I bet you wouldn't have offered so much were he not your disciple." He started cutting his steak again, preparing to consume it. "I'll leave in an hour. The best perk to the Mages Guild: I don't have to travel far to reach Telvanni territory."

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Farens Dren waved to a Morag Tong acquaintance sitting behind the Suran headquarters before approaching him. "Aubar." Farens greeted the Redguard, who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall bordering the mountain range where few residents tread.

"Farens, was it?" Aubar greeted back._ Does it help that he doesn't remember you well?_ That little voice from before asked.

Ignoring the voice and nodding to Aubar, Farens leaned his back against the wall, mimicking the Redguard next to him. "Anyone been borrowing stuff lately?" He referred to the Morag Tong cache of artifacts, the two were leaning against the seamlessly hidden doors leading to the vault.

"Nah." Aubar answered. "Haven't seen anyone in a while. You get permission?"

"No, I'm just bored waiting for the next Silt Strider." _Lying was never your forte; it was always killing, wasn't it? It's all you've ever known, and it's all you ever will. _The two continued small talk for a few minutes until, as subtly as he could, he used a Telekinesis spell to move a rock behind Aubar into another rock, making a slight clicking sound. Automatically, with time honed reflexes and speed, Aubar turned his head to look.

Quickly, Farens charged a spell in his hand as the Redguard as looking away. An instant before the spell hit, Farens yelled, "Lookout!"

The red energies hit Aubar in the back, pushing him forward as it drained away his energy, leaving him fatigued to the point he was fighting to stay awake. "Aubar? Aubar!" Farens acted concerned, knowing full well the Redguard scout would succumb to sleep soon. Within three seconds, he was out cold. _You're lying to yourself if you think you can rest easy without killing him._

Farens got up, and left the back of the HQ toward a large, protruding boulder. Behind it laid the dead body of an Altmer, his heart run through by Farens less than ten minutes earlier, and the Dunmer dragged him back behind the building, and put him in a position that looked like he was killed at that spot. It was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take. It was his hope that people would assume the Altmer was the one who attacked Aubar, and that Farens killed him. He also hoped they wouldn't ask too many questions afterward, that would at least by him enough time to leave before they realized something was amiss. _Why stop with the Altmer? Or is that why you're taking such a big risk? Because you _want_ them to find you out? Is it guilt, or because you want an excuse to fight more?_

Farens clenched his fists, and forced the voice out of his head. After a minute of internal silence, he took the key off of Aubar, and pushed it into what looked like a normal crack in the wall. A lever released, and the two walls swung inward, permitting access to a short stairway leading to under the Headquarters compound. There, he found several locked, trapped, and enchanted chests.

Farens quickly set to work unlocking them one-by-one. Each time he found the chest didn't have what he searched for, he carefully went about relocking them and resetting their traps, that way it would be harder for them to realize something was missing. Finally, on the fifth chest, he found it: a small silver ring with a large sapphire set on it. The slight glow of an enchantment shimmered across it.

Neither he, nor the Morag Tong, knew anything pertaining to the whereabouts of Raedyn Otheril. There were no tax records, no notices of property lease, no official vassalships, only a vague mention in a minor record found in Seyda Neen that he had been released from a certain ship. Even the name of that ship didn't show up in any records. With an information vacuum like that, there was only one way to find him: the hard way.

Gripping the ring, Farens allowed himself a smile. _Otheril, you will not survive our next encounter._

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Raedyn lurched up, throwing the covers almost completely off of him in the motion, and retched over the side of the bed into a pot. His gut was twisting, his head aching, his breath was short no matter how much he panted, and the deformities put him through constant pain. He had barely gotten any sleep the last week, and all he could get out of Caius was, "We'll find something to cure you." Over the last ten days since he became infected, he could occasionally hear a small mob gathering outside the house, with Caius trying to dissuade them from exiling or lynching him.

Raedyn suddenly felt spasms all over him. _No._ Those spasms quickly became tremors as his entire body started shaking. _No, not again!_ He clenched his fists and curled in on himself as he prepared for another seizure.

He felt a bulge stretch the skin on his back, as some kind of liquid pressed out and became burning hot. He knew it would stay there, become inflamed, and grow again with the next seizure. A hump that had started on his shoulder and now covered his entire left arm, his neck, and most of his upper back, began moving and rumbling. It was coming again.

The collection of liquid and gelatinous matter within the mass of growth began moving around, rearranging, pushing and pulling at the muscles underneath. Raedyn groaned as muscles were tugged and dragged along with the growths, straining them. He knew this wouldn't be the worst of it. He knew it wouldn't be over for another three hours yet.

Some muscles on his back weren't being released so easily. Some were being pulled, some were being crushed, but he knew they would be his torment tonight. Several of the muscles were being strained, and soon, something would give...

…and it was always the muscles.

Two sharp snaps resounded through the room as a wet ripping sound came from the Dunmer, drowned out by his screams of pain. Quickly, Caius threw open the door, closed it behind him, and went to his side.

More muscles started straining, and would break soon. He cold only focus on the sounds of the Imperial's voice to distract him from the pain as the attacks started to increase. Raedyn's skin was almost as pale as a Breton's, and always slick with sweat; he was constantly exhausted yet unable to sleep, he ate and drank as much as he could, only to throw it up within a couple hours. The worst he ever experienced under the lash and rack back at prison didn't compare to this.

"Raedyn! Raedyn, listen to me! Look at me!" Caius ordered.

Raedyn slowly opened his eyes, and focused on the Imperial once again. Not once in the last week-and-a-half had he left his side for more than an hour.

"Listen to me. You can survive this!" The Spymaster insisted.

"Make it stop." Raedyn pleaded, his voice shaky and weak. "Please, just make it stop."

Before Caius could say something, the Dunmer grabbed him by the shoulder as a particularly violent seizure took hold of his arm, now too large to be contained by a sleeve, as muscle, tendon, and bone snapped within it as the skin continued to stretch as matter built within it. Suddenly, the skin split, causing Raedyn to scream in pain as several liters of yellow and red puss shot out, covering Caius's arm.

The elder Imperial jerked back, knocking over the table, as if he were trying to get away from his arm. Raedyn saw this, his mind going fuzzy from the pain. _He's moving away from me._ Frantically, almost in a panic, Caius reached out for the towels on the other side of the room. _He's afraid of me._ He lifted his arm, reaching out to Caius, even though he was too far away and had his back to him as he furiously cleaned his arm. _Don't go away. Please, don't leave me alone!_

He seemed to continue moving away, going farther, and farther, and slowly the pain receded. Never in his life had darkness been so welcome.

Almost as soon as he passed out, Raedyn found himself covered in and surrounded by light. It was bright beyond compare, yet so soft he didn't even squint. The light receded, and he found himself standing on a knoll the size of a small mountain. For endless miles in every direction lay endless fields of green grass with the occasional flowering grove.

In front of him stood a Dunmer woman, who smiled at him. "Raedyn."

Raedyn felt tears come to his eyes. "Mother."

She reached her hand out to him. "Come with me."

Without much thought, Raedyn lifted his right arm, now absent of all deformities, growths, and pains, and gently took her hand.

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Caius sat on his favorite, if still uncomfortable, chair while catching his breath. After cleaning off that Corprus gunk from his arm, he notice Raedyn had lost consciousness, though the seizures continued. Careful as he could, he cleaned Raedyn's wounds and bandaged them up, though he would have to bring Tyermaillin in to actually heal them, as well as the snapped muscles and tendons. The Blades Journeyman was becoming more and more apprehensive about healing a Corprus victim, and he was afraid the Altmer would soon refuse to come near him.

Caius pressed a towel damp with clean water, which he used a minor Frost spell on to chill, against his head. These seizures were taking a lot out of him as well. He was responsible for Raedyn's affliction, after all. He knew he was green, and knew the assignment would push him, that it was necessary to push him. Even though Raedyn's destiny was ultimately his own, it was his duty to watch after him.

Besides that, it was difficult not to become somewhat attached to your pupil, even one as rebellious and stubborn as Raedyn. The young Mer had come a long way in the last month, and though he still was at a level most Blades would consider unacceptable, he was still proud of him.

Taking the towel off of his head, he stood up and walked over to Raedyn's sleeping form. He seemed unusually peaceful; his body wasn't shaking, and his breathing had become very shallow. Concerned, Caius pressed two fingers to his carotid artery…

…and didn't feel a pulse.

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Author's Note: OMFG, I just killed off my own character!!! OMGWTFBBQ!!11!1! Well, that's the end of this story. Yes, I kill him off to end this story. No, seriously, I haven't given up yet. Once again, I can't apologize enough for it taking so long to update. And sorry, but it'll still be a while until I get to the final climatic battle between Raedyn and Farens.

Also, I've never met Fast Eddie in the game. I know Caius says he has a house in Balmora, but I haven't found it. I ended up looking in the TES construction set to find out what race he was. I hope I wasn't completely off base with his personality.

Oh, and if anyone's a little surprised by how I decided to kill off Gares, well…the punk deserved it. Not only did he force you to go down a confusing maze cave to get to him, but you get Corprus for it, which forces another annoying quest on you. Personally, I think I let him off light.


	9. The Second Trial

A/N: I cannot begin to convey how sorry I am for taking so damn long updating this story. I meant to update close to this fic's one year anniversary since initial publication, but se la vie. Hopefully it won't take another year to finish the second half.

Also, I forgot to mention this, but in the last chapter, this story officially went over a hundred pages. I think it's good for another hundred pages.

**Chapter Nine: The Second Trial**

The sweet scent of lilies filled his nostrils; all around him were dandelions and alkanet flowers. The smells reminded him very much of Cyrodiil. As he was lost in his memory, he realized Vvardenfell smelled of dirt and ash, foul smells that bothered him the first few weeks he lived on the island, and that he eventually came to ignore it.

It took some time for Raedyn to reach the bottom of the hill, guided by the gentle hand of his mother. _If she's but a specter, then how come the touch feels so soft, so much like how I remember her?_

"Mother," Raedyn said, causing her to stop to pay attention, "where are we? Where are we going?"

She smiled at him a melancholy smile. "Wherever you want to go."

"Wherever I want to go?" He repeated, confused.

"This is a place of rest, of eternal dreams. You wished to be spirited away from Vvardenfell, away from your pain and fears. That's why you are here now." She answered, still with that melancholy smile.

"And that's why you're here." He added.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then how do I know you are real, and not a figment of my dreams?" As soon as he asked, he wished he hadn't. A part of him didn't want to know, was afraid to know. Never before had he remembered her face so clearly, the music of her voice, the softness of her touch.

This time her smile went from melancholy to sad. She reached up her hand and cupped his cheek. "My son, you have suffered so much. All this time, you blamed yourself for what you couldn't control. I believed the comforts of Cyrodiil would be best for you, but I was naïve, I was wrong. What happened to me is not your fault. I don't blame you for anything, not for what happened to me, not for what you became. I have no one to blame but myself."

Raedyn reached up and clutched her hand. That was not what he wanted to hear. The mer standing before him could never be at fault, not for him, not for what he had done. He would never lead himself to believe all this was her fault. The specter standing before him wasn't his own creation. The warmth of her touch, the gentleness of her soul; these things could never be fabricated or imagined.

Her other hand cupped his other cheek. "Your heart is still full of doubt. Why are you here? Why do you wish to run away?" Her words held no reprimand, no accusation, only worried concern. "Talk to me. What troubles you so?"

He couldn't look into her eyes then. He had no right to. "How can I be the Nerevarine? How can I possibly save Resdayn as I am?"

"People can change, even you. Even now, you are more worthy than most." She smiled at him, this time it held no sadness, only bittersweet joy. "Who better to help others than one who knows suffering? Who better to lead the Dunmer out of darkness than one who knows helplessness, and still found redemption?"

He looked at her confused. No, she was the one who was confused. She was just clinging to hope, hope for the son she couldn't help. She was still as naïve as she said she was. "There is no redemption in this world, especially not for me."

She left go of him, and wrapped him in her arms, filling him with the warmth and comfort of her touch. "Raedyn, have you truly suffered so much? Has this cruel world actually turned you against yourself." She hugged him tighter. "You have tortured yourself enough. Let it go. Let me go. There _is_ redemption for you, but the only one who can forgive you is yourself."

She let go of him then, and looked at him through tearful eyes. "If you can't trust in yourself, then trust in me. There is nothing to fear, nothing to run away from."

"Why do you care so much about my destiny?" Raedyn asked.

"Is it not your destiny, but your soul that I care for. Follow your destiny, and you will find what you desire, what you need most." She took a few steps away from him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. Good-bye."

Light surrounded him, and his world, once again, went dark.

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Caius let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. Raedyn was breathing again. Tyermaillin sighed, and stood up from where he was crouched next to the bed. "He should live for now." The Altmer announced.

Caius, holding back his relief by staying professional, said, "Good job, Journeyman Tyermaillin."

"Actually, Master Caius," Tyermaillin said as he moved away from the deformed corprus beast not too fast, but still briskly, "it wasn't my healing that saved him. I don't know what did. It might have been his will to live, but it wasn't my magic."

Caius nodded in understanding. Mysteries like this weren't very surprising, considering all the forces that were involved. "Is he in any danger?"

The Altmer tried to appear like he had reasons for being as far away from Raedyn as he could be. "His life is not in any immediate danger, though that could change with the next seizure."

Caius nodded. "Understood. You're dismissed." Again, the Altmer tried not to leave too fast. The elderly Imperial turned to look at Raedyn again, the vaguely human shaped lump that was difficult to recognize as once being a Dunmer. _You're lucky, kid. Some greater beings are definitely looking out for you._

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The moment the light from the Recall spell dissipated, Farens Dren didn't wait for his eyes to adjust to the suddenly dark setting as he let the heavy monolith under his left arm crash to the ground, then let the hogtied and bagged Mer under his right onto the ground with slightly more care. He pulled the dark bag off from the Dunmer's head, revealing a mildly elder Elven head. "What do you want with me?" The Mer demanded, unperturbed by his abduction.

The captive turned his head from side to side, trying to gain a sense of his bearings, but Farens knew the best he would ever figure out was the Azura Coast, with the rocky coastline now becoming somewhat visible under the faint moonlight. He had calculated the abduction perfectly, first by draining the Mer's Mana, followed immediately by a paralyzing spell, making it easy to bag and tie him, all while the elder Mer prayed in the High Fane.

Farens knelt down to look his captive in the eye. "Archcanon Tholyer Saryoni. I require your assistance." Saryoni spit at that. "Most unbecoming of a Mer in your position," Farens mused as he wiped the spittle off his face, "but I commend you on your bravery. I'm looking for a Dunmer, an Outlander, by the name of Raedyn Otheril." Farens' eyes narrowed when he saw recognition on the Archcanon's face.

"He's already being taken care of." Saryoni replied, still exerting defiant composure.

Farens managed to stop himself from saying he was the one on the job. He wasn't going to endanger the Morag Tong by revealing his independent actions. "He's _mine_, and you are going to help make sure of that. You will use all your resources to track him down, and when you do, you will report to me here, via Mark and Recall. You will speak of this to no one, not even Lord Vivec. And to make sure you don't betray me," he walked over to a chest-high monolith, and lifted it upright to reveal it as a Temple Shrine, "you will bind yourself to this oath before the Saints and the Daedra."

Saryoni spat again, though this time at the ground as Farens was too far away. "I'll die first and join my ancestors before betraying them."

The Morag Tong agent smiled. "You are truly an example to all your subjects." Suddenly, his hand flew forward and grabbed the Archanon's head, and Illusion Mana surged forth. Farens knew that too much Illusion magic at once could cause permanent damage to the mind, but he could take no chances.

When he retracted his hand, Saryoni was still, calm, and placid as one on Skooma. Farens knelt down and undid the ropes binding the Archcanon. "You will bind yourself by oath to my requests."

"Yes." Tholyer Saryoni answered in a drugged voice. "I will."

Farens knew binding the Mer by oath was the only way to insure cooperation as well as secrecy. As soon as the Charm spell wore off, the Archcanon was not going to be happy, but by then, there would be little he would be able to do about it.

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Slowly, Raedyn began opening his eyes to the painfully blinding light. After nearly a minute of adjusting, he realized it was only the normal light of the indoors. It was Caius's house still, the same ceiling, the same smell, the same bed. The same ever-present mist clouding his mind, distorting his thoughts.

He tried turning his head, but found it quite difficult, as if there was a brace resisting against him. He lifted his right hand to feel his neck, and found it had become wider than his head. The flesh around his left eye had grown and swollen so much it was like looking through a peep hole.

Forcing himself through the resistance, Raedyn turned his head enough to see Caius at his desk, looking over large papers, probably maps. "Cai…us." He croaked out the name.

The Spymaster quickly turned, and saw him. "You're finally awake. You've been out three days." He stood up and moved his chair closer to where he was facing him. "I was worried you would never wake up."

"Yeah," Raedyn said sardonically, with some sarcasm showing through his craggy voice. Waking up wasn't any kind of improvement. "I had to wake up eventually."

"I have good news for you." Caius said, though it lacked any enthusiasm. "I had an associate of mine, Fast Eddie, look around the Telvanni territories for a cure. Divayth Fyr, one of the oldest Telvanni Wizards, runs a Corprusarium, and has been researching the disease for over a millennium. They say he's constantly making breakthroughs with the disease. If anyone can cure you, or at least ease your suffering, it's him. At the very least, the Corprusarium is the safest place you can be."

"Why?" Raedyn asked. His mind was having trouble grasping the logic of it all.

Caius's brows furrowed, though Raedyn couldn't figure out why. "You want to be cured of Corprus, don't you?"

Raedyn thought about that, but everything in his mind was so fleeting. "Do I?" He asked, sincerely.

Caius started talking with some haste. "Listen to me, Raedyn, listen closely." He started talking slower, making it easier for Raedyn to understand, "The Corprus is starting to affect your mind. You must stay focused!" He reached over and grabbed a map off the table. "You see this? Look at this; it's a map of the Molag Mar region. I've mapped out the path you will take to Tel Fyr. I would have you go to the Tevanni Territories via the Mages Guild, but they will not help you when you have Corprus. Tonight, you will take this path," holding up the map, he traced the line he drew with his finger, "from Balmora through the Foyada Mamaea, to the path north of Fort Moonmoth, through Molag Mar until you reach the shores. You'll have to swim to the island. You'll know it when you see it."

He put the map away, and made sure Raedyn was looking him in the eyes, "Do you remember what Telvanni Towers look like?" After several seconds, Raedyn nodded. "You will be leaving tonight. It will be a three day hike, at least. I'll give you plenty of food, water, and pain killers."

Raedyn's mind was getting cloudier by the minute. "But I don't wanna leave."

Caius quickly scooted his chair closer and put his face less than a foot from Raedyn's. "Listen to me, you _must_ do this, and you _will_ do it, tonight!" After a few seconds of silence, Caius continued, in a softer voice, "Do you trust me, Raedyn?"

It was nearly a minute before Raedyn answered, "Yes." He didn't know why he did. He remembered he didn't always trust the Imperial, but it was different now, and through the fogginess in his mind, he didn't know why he trusted the man in front of him.

"Then you must do this."

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Farens broke off his meditation when his heart-rate and breath went back to normal. His training wasn't finished yet. He had little else to do out in the middle of nowhere other than hunt and wait for Saryoni. Training helped distract him from looking at the spot where the Archanon had Marked. He had to be ready for every contingency, and so did his 'companions'.

Slipping the ring he stole from the Morag Tong warehouse onto his gloveless left hand, he activated the enchantment. White smoke enveloped the large rocky plateau he rested on. Moments later, it subsided and Farens found himself surrounded by half a dozen Dremora Lords.

"What do you want now?" Demanded one of them, the one Farens vaguely recognized as Kathrygog, the de facto leader of this fellowship eternally marked by the ring to be summoned at the user's behest.

"We will continue training the tactics I thought up yesterday." Farens answered plainly, pulling out his glass shortsword, ending the conversation at that.

Kathrygog snorted. "You mortals are such cowards, especially you, Dren. Tactics and strategies are for the weaklings, it proves nothing."

Almost as soon as the flash of magic came up, Farens was gone. The six Dremora Lords looked around, suspicious of what their 'master' was planning. Less than two seconds elapsed before Farens reappeared in front of Kathrygog at the same instant he swung his shortsword, slashing both of the Dremora's eyes.

Behind Farens, one of the Dremora Lords, less for the sake of rescuing his leader, as nothing could destroy a Daedra's spirit, but more for the fun of hoping for a full out brawl, swung his battle ax at the Dunmer's back. Almost at the same time, Farens figure seemed to…distort, deform, as the site of his body became hazy and stretched to five times his normal width. The ax hit only air before hitting the ground. A moment later, the Sanctuary spell vanished and Farens brought his foot down on the ax's hilt, forcing it out of the Dremora's hand before thrusting his shortsword at the Daedra's face, stopping it an inch from his eye. "Would _you_ like to spend the rest of our training sessions blinded as well?"

With no fear of death, only the destruction of their ephemeral bodies, the greatest of the few threats to a Daedra was inconvenience. "Fine, Dren," the Dremora Lord acquiesced, "what do you want me to do?"

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It had been five days since he left Caius's house, left Balmora. How fitting that it was the last time he had seen any sign of civilization. On and on, the trek went, the winds and ash storms came and left as frequently as the moon and the sun, just as the fog in his mind dispersed and thickened. There were times when his mind was clear enough to realize he had gone off the trail, long enough for him to correct his path, and there were times where the only thought he had was the idea to put one foot ahead of the other.

As bad as the deadening of his thoughts were, he preferred the blissful unawareness to the stark virtual panic he experienced as his senses returned. The farther into the Molag Mar region he went, the further, he knew, he was from any help he might need. Almost every moment of awareness brought about the haunting fear of what he might encounter out in the hot, arid fields, what he would do about his next seizure, as the painkillers didn't last long, what he would do if he got diseased, what if he got lost, but worst of all: what he would do if he survived.

Blissful unawareness or unclouded terror? Never would he have dreamed he would encounter such a merciless fate. The times he had with his mind unclouded were difficult, as there were times he wanted to stop walking, and just stay sit down and never move again, just watch the world go by, regardless of what might become of him. He wanted everything to stop, to just forget. Fear made him want to stop, fear kept him moving. Hopelessness ahead, damnation behind him, and death clawing at him where he stood. How the hell did Caius live with shit like this? Why couldn't _he_ be the Nerevarine? He would've handled this better than he ever could.

Over the course of those five days, he tried to reassure himself by saying the prophecy would protect him, that he had nothing to fear. It would've been so easy to assume so much from knowing so little, to believe only one would perish in that final battle, but he was too smart, too aware for such blissful illusions, with the reminders of stark reality his seizures presented.

After taking more steps than he ever knew he could take, he found himself walking into seawater. Though his mind was muddled, he knew well enough to swim until he saw something big. Time passed, time he couldn't count or measure, before he found something tall looming in the distance. He had encountered several Slaughter Fish that bit deeply into his flesh, usually the distorted portions, but he ended them quickly by grabbing them and squeezing them in his now oversized hands. Now, for the first time in what he could only describe as a long time, he was on dry land.

It took until the fog in his mind dissipated for him to finally recognize the door to the gigantic herbaceous tower. The bronze moved easily under his hands, and he found himself in a hallway of gnarled, honey colored bark. Unable to think of anything else to do, he called out, somewhat hesitantly, "Hello?"

A She-Dunmer in Bonemold armor walked out of an intersecting hallway, and noticed him. She glanced at him with brief, mild surprise, and then she rushed forward and took his malformed arm gently. She seemed to be saying soothing words to him, but exhaustion seemed to catch up to him right then, and his mind became fuzzy.

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Looking straight up at the ceiling, his mind became clearer with each passing moment. That medicine Beyte Fyr gave him was certainly working, and it even tasted good, like an aged brandy. 'The best medicine doesn't have to be bitter' she said. So clear was his mind, then, that he realized Beyte Fyr, Divayth Fyr's wife she said, was surprisingly young, not a day older than fifty at most, as well as very beautiful, and even with the thick armor, he could tell she had quite a figure. Master Fyr was a lucky Mer. Her tone, he movement, her questions all put him at ease, helped him relax more than he had in weeks. The medicine she gave him, though temporary, made his head clearer than ever.

"Ah, you must be our latest guest." A feminine voice inquired. He lifted his head, with some difficulty from the Corprus growths, and saw another female Dunmer, also in Bonemold armor, and every bit as beautiful as Beyte. She even looked like her a little. Sisters, perhaps?

"Yes, I guess I am." Raedyn replied. "I'm Raedyn Otheril."

"I'm Delte Fyr, Divayth's wife. It's a pleasure to meet you." She said.

Raedyn's brow furrowed, or did somewhat. "Wait, I thought Beyte was Master Divayth's wife."

Her face took on a look of nervousness, and her cheeks colored slightly. "I think you should talk to Divayth personally on that matter." She turned and politely, yet briskly, left the room.

_What was that about?_ He wondered. A moment later, Beyte came into the room, and knelt next to him on the bed.

"Master Fyr will see you now." Raedyn started to carefully maneuver his disproportionate body off the mattress when Beyte continued, "Do you have a means of levitating? These Towers aren't meant for those who can't fly short distances."

"I have a ring." Raedyn reassured her, patting the satchel at his hip. He had a Ring of Short Flight made for him while he was working for the Mages Guild when he found out, first hand, how hard it was to get potions. He never could figure out why so few brewers and apothecaries carried levitation potions in _Telvanni _territory! He quickly discovered paying for an enchanted ring was cheaper than buying potions in bulk.

As he started toward the hallway, Beyte took his arm. "Thanks, but I don't need an escort." He assured her with a smile. She smiled back, and let go. As he continued on toward and down the hallway, he realized he felt really good. That medicine she gave him must have had something else in it, but the atmosphere and the reception and care he was given made him feel very, very comfortable. Even the thoughts of the uncertain future didn't concern him right then.

Using the ring to rise up the shaft into the upper level of Tel Fyr, he found the ancient wizard, clothed in elaborate black armor, reading a book. Raedyn wondered, for a moment, if it was genuine Daedric armor. He approached the Mer and said, "Divayth Fyr, I presume."

He looked up from the book in mild surprise, as if he didn't hear Raedyn approaching. "Oh, yes, Beyte mentioned we had a guest. Come for the Corprusarium, or to plunder it?" He quickly closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

"Uh, I came hoping to be cured…if possible."

The old wizard sighed. "I'm sorry, but I don't have a cure. I can have my wife show you to the Corprusarium, and let you decide whether you would like to stay here and help me with my research or not, but I can't make any promises of a cure."

"Um," he knew from Delte's reaction this might have been a sensitive matter, but his curiosity got the better of him, "Master Fyr, uh…which one…is your wife?"

He looked slightly taken aback by the question, but not offended, as Raedyn had hoped he wouldn't be. "Hmm, oh, all of them are. They're also, technically, my daughters too. Not bad for creatures born in jars, I'm sure you'll agree."

It took a couple seconds for that to register, but when it did, Raedyn suddenly felt he wouldn't quite view those women the same way he did before, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Beyte tells me you brought some interesting luggage." Divayth said, offhand as he looked through his book collection on the shelf, not looking like he was looking for something in particular.

"Huh? Oh yes, the Coherer. That was to be a gift for you."

Divayth smiled, though he didn't look away from the book shelf. "How shrewd you are, to appeal to my favorite collection." He paused as he seemed to find a book that piqued his interest, and promptly pulled the volume from the shelf. "I can't very well say I have a cure to the disease, though I'm in the process. I can, however, tell you much about the disease, though I would think that would be an inappropriate term for it."

"What would be more appropriate? Curse?"

"No, there is much about Corprus that is most fascinating. If I can modify it slightly, it could be a most incredible condition to have. Did you know that, besides strengthening the body and giving incredible endurance, it also makes one immune to disease? Not just the common stuff, but blight as well, even vampirism." He paused, both from talking and turning pages in his book. "I could make a mint selling the disease to vampire hunters." He said the words with a minor sense of wonder.

A few seconds of silence passed by. "Uh, Master Fyr?" Raedyn spoke up.

The Telvanni wizard seemed to snap out of his stupor. "Oh, yes, as I was saying, complete immunity to disease. Imagine how many lives could be saved with such a thing. Blight storms would only be an annoyance rather than a danger. Imagine being able to march up Red Mountain without fear of being infected."

That last scenario caught his attention. "Like the Nerevarine would?"

"Hmm, oh right, the Nerevarine supposedly will be immune to disease. Imagine, the Nerevarine might be in my Corprusarium, a mad, deformed beast." He laughed lightly at that, which didn't make Raedyn comfortable with his taste of humor. Yet what he said had merit.

Raedyn opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. As much as he didn't want Corprus, he also didn't want to be the Nerevarine, or even admit the possibility, at least to others. Yet he knew this was important, and he had to make a choice. After a few seconds of consideration, he decided there was nowhere to go but forward. "Master Fyr, there's something I want to discuss with you."

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Raedyn put his hands on the thick bronze door, and found it opening easily under his strength. Before the news of his destiny, back when he ran errands for the Mages Guild, the few times he went into Telvanni territory, these doors had always been a pain, once even causing him to strain his back.

The door swung fully open with a loud squeak, and brought Raedyn into a dim room, the walls, floor, and ceiling all made of cold earth, and reeked of decay and puss, a hundred times worse than any outbreak he had. He could suppress his desire to gag, but couldn't hold in the grimace.

In the room, he found an Argonian in steel armor. "Ah, a new addition?" He asked.

"No." Raedyn answered plainly. "Master Fyr sent me on an errand."

"Ah, I see. I am Vistha-Kai, Knight and Warden of this facility." The Argonian introduced himself. "Master Fyr often sends newcomers here to see this realm before any decisions are made. I won't ask the details of your errand, but there are rules you _will_ abide by."

_Raedyn felt a small sense of accomplishment when, by the end of his story, he had the apparently absent minded wizard's rapt attention. "So you see, if there's anyone who can help me now, and possibly all of Morrowind, or even Tamriel, it is you, Master Fyr."_

_A small smile creased his wrinkled face. He looked more fascinated than solemn, but his eyes focused on nothing, and he seemed to be deep in thought. "Well, I do have an experimental potion that could…'_cure_' you." Raedyn didn't miss that slight emphasis he used on the word 'cure'. "Theoretically, at least, it should. It'll likely kill you, but it's your choice." He looked like he made a decision. "Before I give you the potion, I need you to go down to the Corprusarium and talk to Yagrum Bagarn, my oldest patient, about those boots I asked him to fix."_

"_How will I know him?"_

"_Even in a place like that, he stands out."_

Raedyn clenched the Dwemer boots to his chest as he doubled over and retched between the wooden and bronze gates into the Corprusarium. The smell had only gotten worse the further he went into the place, and it was only strict discipline and focus that allowed him to keep the lunch Beyte made him from leaving him until then.

"Trust me, you will get used to the smell." Vistha-Kai said with some sympathy as he followed him back to the entrance.

It was not only the smell that made him sick, it was the inmates. The sights of the walking that should be dead, those more malformed than he was, ones who were as scared of him as he was of them, those images were bad enough, but their eyes were what filled him with dread and fear. Those eyes showed pain beyond what he knew, a pain greater than that of the body. An echoing scream of despair and pain from deep within the prison sent shivers down his back. This place only gave peace to those with Corprus, but it could do nothing to save them from their torture.

Rubbing the stomach juices from his lips, he hardened himself and proceeded to the top of the tower, where he found Fyr waiting for him. He handed the boots over, feeling significantly worse than he had when he first met the Wizard. "Yagrum said he couldn't fix them." He said, trying hard not to let his voice waiver.

"Ah, yes, I expected as much." Fyr said, taking the boots. "When something is fundamentally flawed, there's not much one can do for it." He put the boots into a chest, and sat down at his study, apparently looking for some notes.

"Master Fyr." Raedyn hadn't meant to be as curt as he was, but after what he saw, he had gained a new revulsion for the disease he harbored.

"What? Oh yes, the potion." The ancient wizard took a pink bottle off the top of his study and walked over to Raedyn. "Now, drink all of this up, right in front of me, as I need to see the results with my own eyes."

"Fine." Raedyn said, impatiently.

"So," Fyr said conversationally as he struggled with the cork, which was pushed in a little too far into the bottle, "my little Corprusarium didn't interest you?"

"No!" Raedyn quickly wished he hadn't answered so fast. He wasn't sure whether that was a joke or not. "I think I'd rather be cured."

As Fyr managed to get most of the cork out, he muttered under his breath, "It'll more likely kill you than cure you." Raedyn wasn't sure if the wizard meant for him to hear that. He wouldn't be surprised if Fyr didn't even think of whether he could or not.

Raedyn took the uncorked bottle, and hesitated to swallow. The thought of swallowing his own death suddenly stilled his hands. _Damn it all!_ He tried again, but stopped himself a moment short.

Fyr muttered something in Merique along the lines of 'oh for crying out loud', and practically force fed the liquid down his throat. "That's it, now keep drinking, yes, drink it all, now." Once the last of the stuff was finished, Raedyn succeeded in pushing the wizard off of him, though the force nearly toppled over his desk when he ran into it.

A few seconds passed, and nothing happened. The stuff didn't even taste that bad. "Well," Raedyn began, "that wasn't so-" He stopped as he was consumed by violent convulsions, and unable to keep his balance, began writhing on the ground, sweating bullets as his whole body felt like it was on fire. The temperature rose fast, too fast. He got to the point where he thought he was going to die from the heat, but it just got hotter and hotter. He thought he screamed, but in that maelstrom, he wasn't sure. Seconds turned into minutes, what felt like hours, eternities.

Slowly, very slowly, the pain began to dissipate. When it was gone, Raedyn just lay there, panting in the fetal position for what might have been several minutes; he couldn't tell.

After some time, he felt hands and fingers press against various parts of his body. After a minute, Raedyn opened his eyes and saw Fyr squatting next to his limp body, feeling various body parts, apparently examining him. "Ah, can you see me?"

"Yeah," Raedyn muttered, "unfortunately."

Fyr looked slightly perplexed by the statement, but dismissed it, and continued his visual and touch inspection. "It seems the potion might have been a success. Nearly all your symptoms seem to be gone."

Raedyn's head jerked at that, and looked at his arm, his hand that should be swelled to several times its normal size. It was back to normal, and upon seeing this, he patted down every inch of his body that was supposed to have changed.

"All those growths on your body split open, spewing steam and they, for lack of a better word, 'deflated' down to your normal size. Most fascinating. Your skin appears to have returned to normal, there doesn't seem to be any excess left behind."

Raedyn slowly got to his feet, now clad in little else than his pants, with the left sleeve no more than tatters. His body was normal. The pain was gone. His body was back. There was no pain. In fact, his body felt rather light.

Out of compulsion, he wrapped his arms around Fyr in a savage bear hug; he thought he was going to weep. Until he was aware that Fyr's arms were flailing, and he thought he felt the armor giving under the stress. Raedyn quickly let go, and was surprised as Divayth Fyr gasped for breath, nearly doubling over.

Out of sudden curiosity, Raedyn grabbed Fyr's armor, and lifted his whole body up with one arm. As the wizard suddenly looked very uncomfortable, Raedyn managed one word, "Whoa!"

He gently put Fyr back on the ground. Though Fyr still felt heavy with just one hand, he had to weigh as much as two fully grown Dunmer, at least, with armor like that on. After several seconds of considering what just happened, Raedyn asked, "What exactly did that potion do to me?"

Fyr adjusted his armor slightly before replying, taken aback by his test subject's display. "Exactly what I had hoped the potion would do."

"And that would be…?" He should've known from what the wizard said earlier that he might have been misleading him.

Fyr looked slightly uncomfortable as he explained. "Corprus has too many benefits not to reap. Even I can't see a way to cure it, but the theory behind this mix was to remove the negative effects without losing the positives." His back straightened, and he seemed a little more proud of himself. "It seems it has finally worked."

Raedyn, too overcome with joy at his new body, didn't pay him any more attention as he marveled at the miracle he was experiencing. _My body's back. I'm fine. I'm fine._

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Author's Notes: Oh god, I REALLY feel bad for taking so damn long. (Bashes forehead over and over again) Oh well. At least I got it out. And not an entirely bad chapter at that, IMO. The next chapter will probably cover the next two missions, so it might be the same length, or longer than this one.


	10. Raids

Author's note: Holy anal flogging, ten chapters! And it only took a year!

**Chapter Ten: Raids**

Farens sat down on a salt colored rock, catching the breath he lost during his workout. The Dremora Lord Ring required a few more hours of recharging before it could be used. During these times in between, he would wait for Saryoni, or he would exercise.

He worked every day to try to stay at his physical peak. _His_ physical peak. When he was a child, living in Vazon'Ruhn, he was one of the strongest, fastest youths in the village. Combined with his talent with swords and magic, there was nothing in the world he looked forward to more than his coming of age day, where he would leave for Vivec and strive to become an Ordinator.

That was his dream then, to be an Ordinator. The village got few adventurers, and fewer travelers. They were self sufficient, for the most part, but made their money by selling excess from their crops to the cities. One time, when he was six, he went with his father to Vivec, and there he saw the Ordinators. That was the first significant event of his childhood, when he found his dream: to serve nation and lord as an enforcer of the law, an embodiment of power and loyalty.

The second significant event of his childhood broke that dream, every bit as much as it broke his body. Since then, his body was weak, and he had to temper it daily so it wouldn't fail him as he followed his new dream, the only dream he had left. He would not serve law, he would deal out justice. That was all he could do.

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When Raedyn jubilantly returned to Balmora, Caius opened a bottle from his cache of Dagoth Brandy in celebration while debriefing the young Dunmer, though in a far less strict manner than they had in the past.

"Master Fyr gave me the cloths and a few septims for travel as a way of thanking me for the Coherer." Raedyn wrapped up.

Caius nodded, his eyes staring out into empty space while sipping his brandy. Halfway through the debriefing his jubilance for Raedyn's recovery had seemed to have run its course, and he looked as though his mind was elsewhere, though the Dunmer knew he heard every word he said. After several seconds of silence, Caius seemed to continue pondering something.

"You know this can't be coincidence, right?" The Imperial eventually said. "'Neither blight nor age can harm him. The Curse-of-the-flesh before him flies', and look what's happened to you." When he saw Raedyn's face become solemn, he said, in an apologetic voice, "I don't mean to spoil your good mood, but it's something that must be mentioned. According to Lord Fyr, you're now immune to all disease, and you've shown you're stronger than an Ogrim Titan. Everything up until now was based on assumption and could be counted off as coincidence; this is the first true sign that you could actually be the Nerevarine."

Raedyn was silent for several seconds while leaning back in his chair. Though he understood what Caius had said, all too well, he couldn't help but notice something was off about the Spymaster. "What else is bothering you?" Raedyn asked.

Caius briefly chuckled at the question. "I guess you're finally getting some perception. I've been going over the notes you brought me about the prophecies. One of the passages has me slightly concerned. 'Many fall, but one remains'. This passage doesn't seem to refer to the trials the Nerevarine is supposed to face, but talks about something else. One theory I had was that there would be several beings that had the Nerevarine's destiny, but only one would succeed. I know there have been many in the past who've claimed to be Nerevar-incarnate, and all have died. I had some agents in the Temple look up records on several of those who made such claims, as they were the ones that persecuted them the most, and many have shared some alarming similarities to you. All of them were born on the exact same day you were, all of them showed remarkable talent in combat and magic, each of them were from Cyrodiil, and their appearances coincided with mass outbreaks of corprus and some of the worst Blight Storms in Vvardenfell's history."

Raedyn leaned back heavily in his chair, taking all that information in. '…some of the worst Blight Storms in Vvardenfell's history.' _When Earth is sundered and skies chocked black…_ '…mass outbreaks of corprus…' …_and the Sleepers serve the seven curses…_ '…each of them were from Cyrodiil…' _…to the hearth there comes a stranger, journeyed far 'neath moon and star._ 'I had some agents in the Temple look up records on several of those who made such claims, as they were the one that persecuted them the most…' _wicked stalk him, righteous curse him. Many fall, but one remains._

"So you're saying I might still fail, even if I _am_ Nerevar's reincarnation?" Raedyn asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Caius affirmed.

Raedyn felt a small swell of worry and panic well up within him, but he promptly suppressed it, finding, once again, that calm that overtook him in Ilunibi. It was like he was a blank slate now: empty, detached. Nothing moved him, nothing touched him, all went through him. "If Azura won't promise my safety, then I'll simply take care of myself." He stated, calmly.

Caius was slightly surprised by these words. A faint smile played on his lips. "You've grown, Raedyn. I don't know if any greater power watching over you sees potential in you, but now, I do."

"What else is bothering you?" Raedyn asked. "Your tone and body language suggests this is the end or something."

Caius stood up and looked at the wall, not meeting the Dunmer's gaze as he did so. "It _is_ an end. I've been recalled to Cyrodiil."

Raedyn's calm shuddered, but held. "Why?"

"Not sure. Perhaps my sweet tooth doesn't sit well with them." Caius answered.

"And what _else_ might it be?" Raedyn asked, the emphasis he used showing he could see right through the Imperial.

"You've indeed grown." Caius turned to meet Raedyn's gaze. "You're as fine and sharp as anyone I've trained in the Blades now. Yes, there is another reason I think I'm being recalled. The Emperor's health is declining further, and many believe he won't survive his illness. His Majesty's sons are strong and capable, but they're also very different from one another, and stubborn as His Majesty's late wife."

"It's the succession of the throne, isn't it?" Raedyn asked. "Even if one is picked, the others might disagree, with the choice of succession or with his rule, and that could turn into conflict of interests and plots, possibly even culminating in a coup." Raedyn thought about this for a few more seconds before continuing, "Situations like these cannot be solved with force, as that would lead to unacceptable outcomes and possibly even more conflict. They would need the most experienced Blades to handle a situation this delicate. If any of the sons gather enough support, it could eventually lead to civil war."

Caius gave a hearty laugh. "Forgive the cliché, but I have little else to teach you."

"So who do I report to now?" Raedyn asked.

"No one." Caius answered. "I'm promoting you to Blades Operative, making you the ranking agent in Vvardenfell."

Raedyn was surprised by this. "Caius, I can't handle your job, I don't even know half of the duties you perform, not to mention your agents and contacts."

"There's nothing to it. Each agent reports directly to Cyrodiil on his or her own. The promotion is to help maintain your independence." The elderly Imperial walked over to the chest at the base of his bed, and pulled on a black shirt and a traveling pack. "I'll be going now."

"Now?" Raedyn asked, surprised. "Already?"

"My orders were to leave immediately after you returned, and to give you one last order: fulfill the prophecy. Mehra Milo has reported that she has made contact with the Dissident Priests, but says she might be short on time. My superiors were hoping you were ready to act on your own, to use your own discretion, but I know you're ready." He walked over to the door, but when he grasped the handle, he stopped and said, "Raedyn, the Empire is falling apart; we both know it's only a matter of time before it sees its last days. I don't think I need to explain the hell that will follow. Don't worry about us, think locally. That's all you can do now. Good luck."

As the Spymaster turned the handle, Raedyn was overcome with a compulsion. He stood up, walked over to Caius before he could leave the house, and hugged him. "Good bye, old man. And thanks…for everything."

Caius returned the embrace. "Good bye, my pupil." He let go of the Dunmer, and walked out the door.

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Later that day, as evening began to give way to twilight, Raedyn took his time descending the Foreign Quarter Canton in Vivec, despondent over the absence of his superior. After the elderly Imperial left, Raedyn had just sat in that one-room house for nearly an hour, taking in the emptiness that was left without its occupant. How strange that the room seemed…alien without him.

In a way, he guessed the house and the Imperial were a place of safety for him; if he didn't know what to do, he could always go there and rely on Caius. Even though he couldn't see himself willingly give in ask Caius for advice back then, and still couldn't see himself do it now, just having the option helped. He remembered as a child, when he'd be out playing and got home late, he always checked to see if his mother was home. She sometimes had to work late, and occasionally overnight, but she was usually asleep when he got home late. He would never wake her, but knowing she was there put him at ease.

It was more than simply a place for Raedyn to rely on in need. Caius had taken care of him when no one else would. He had helped him more than anyone ever had. He was more than simply Raedyn superior, he was his friend, one whom he owed a debt to he could never repay.

Now he was on his own again, just like before. This time, however, he wasn't going to let that kindness go to waste. He wasn't going to become just another vagabond and thief.

When he reached the Hall of Wisdom, he asked an Ordinator where the private quarters were. He didn't want to mention Milo by name and draw suspicion, or more suspicion than there already was, to her. When he found the wooden door with her name on it, he knocked a few times, and no one came. He might have had some skill with a lock pick before going to the Imperial City's prison, but even _if_ he could still use one like he did back then, he didn't have any on him.

Raedyn looked around the nearby corners to see if anyone was close, and finding none, he pressed his body against the doorjamb to hopefully muffle the sound. If it didn't, he would have to either be fast with his words or fast on his feet when a dozen Ordinators came to investigate the noise. Quickly, but trying to be gentle, he hit the door with an open palm. There was a crack as the doorjamb splintered where the door fastened into it, and the door swung unsteadily open. Raedyn quickly stepped in and closed the door behind him. Luckily, no one from the outside could see the broken doorframe.

The inside of the room was tidy, and not terribly decorated, though it was less Spartan than Caius's. Raedyn started looking through the desk, hoping to find a schedule. He almost ignored the note on top of the desk, seeing as it looked like a personal letter, and ergo, pointless to him, until by chance he saw a name that looked familiar. It was addressed to Amaya, the codename he set up between the two of them. Not a likely coincidence, especially since she was expecting him.

After he finished reading it, he realized that, once again, this wasn't going to be a simple mission. 'Run some papers to the Ministry of Truth' his ash-colored ass. _Might as well get those scrolls_, he thought, _looks like I'm going to cross swords with Ordinators again._

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The twilight was starting to give way to night as Raedyn looked up at the looming dirt clump that was the Ministry of Truth, two Divine Intervention Scrolls safely tucked away in his satchel, and sure his glass armor was well secured. He wished he had some kind of mask, but all the armor shops were closed for the night. Why couldn't shops stay open twenty-four hours a day? Why didn't city, village and town dwellers ever stay still? If merchants and normal folk only stayed in the same spot all the time, things would be much more convenient for adventurers like him. A little too convenient, likely, but convenient, nonetheless.

Forcing a little magicka into his Ring of Sureflight, he slowly levitated up to the Ministry catwalks. Halfway there, he saw an Ordinator, with the helmet off he could see it was a she, catch sight of him, and move to greet him. When his feet were solidly on the wooden planks, she spoke, "Forgive me, Serjo, but pilgrims are not allowed in the Ministry."

"Are you Avela Saram?" Raedyn asked. When she affirmed, he continued, "I'm looking for Mehra Milo. Any chance I can see her?"

Her expression didn't change. "You must be Raedyn, the one she's expecting." This time, she continued when he affirmed, "Some of us are sympathetic to the Dissident Priests. Though many of us are retainers of the Great Houses, especially Indoril, many of us were also subjects of the Ordinator's abuse of power, and thus disagree with the way these priests are treated." She reached into her pocket, and showed she held a key. "This will get you into the Ministry, but be warned: if you free Milo, we will know. We will also know _how_ you did it. If they know you killed one of our brothers or sisters for the sake of a Dissident Priest, they would see it as an attack _by_ the Dissident Priests. Keep that in mind."

He took a few moments to think that through. When, at last, he reached for the key, she closed her hand and fixed him with an appraising eye. "Hard to believe you took down Feras Letheli with his own weapon."

"What are you…" It suddenly occurred to him what she was talking about. "That Ordinator attacked me first, and I wasn't under any orders."

She gave him a half-smile. "Just understand that not all of us are as understanding as I am." She dropped the key into his hand. "I'll just say you subdued me with magic. The door at the end of this walkway is the best way to enter. Go up to find the prison, Mehra's cell is the one on the far right. That key won't open the prison doors, though. Look for that one in desks; no one holds keys while on duty."

"That won't be necessary." Raedyn casually said, and lightly banged on the door next to them, breaking it off its hinges and creating a loud noise. "You might want to start acting 'subdued'." He turned, and ran to the other door before half a dozen Ordinators appeared where Avela laid on the catwalk, pretending to be paralyzed.

Using the key to quietly open the door, Raedyn ran in and through the nearest tunnel, while the Ordinators were distracted by the noise. Quickly, he found a sturdy looking door with the word 'Prison' etched into the wood. The Dunmer gave it a solid kick, which not only knocked it off its hinges, but sent it flying halfway across the large room it opened into.

"What in Oblivion?" A Dunmeri voice demanded before two Ordinators showed up and blocked the entrance. Raedyn wasted no time by ramming his way through them, and shoulder butting any other Ordinators that got in his way down ramp, and into the commons area where a dozen prisoners looked shocked at his flashy entry. Raedyn quickly made his way to the right-most hut, and with some gentleness this time, hit the door to open it. Inside, he found a vaguely familiar female Dunmer looking somewhat shocked.

"Hey," Raedyn greeted as he pressed his back against the door to keep the outsiders outside, "recognize me without the seawater?"

"You're as subtle as a Blight Storm, Otheril!" She barked.

"And you're very welcome, Muthsera, 'tis nothing for me to risk life and limb for your fair maidenshipiness. Do you want your scroll or not?" Raedyn replied, the last part lacking the sarcasm.

She gave him a glare that would've frozen over the entire Morag Mar region, but lucky for him he was distracted by the people outside trying to make him budge. "Fine, I'll bitch _after_ we escape."

Raedyn reached into his pocket and pulled out the scroll and tossed it to her. The moment she was gone, he stepped forward and kicked the door behind him, knocking back all the guards trying to enter, and cast the Intervention spell.

As the magicka around him faded, he found himself outside between a couple of stone brick buildings with torches for light. There, he found Mehra Milo, right next to him. "Got a plan? It's a fair bet they suspect Divine Intervention, and they won't be long behind us."

Without answering, and likely a little angry, Mehra walked toward the door leading into the larger of the stone buildings. Following her, Raedyn conjured up a map of Vvardenfell in his head. He soon deducted that they were in Ebonheart. He had never been there, but he knew it was one of the largest Imperial Ports in the Morrowind Providence.

Keeping up with Mehra's fast pace, they moved through a small castle or fort, down a long bridge, and after several minutes of walking through the port town, reached a small hut that looked rather innocuous. She banged on the door a few times, and after nearly a full minute, a Nord woman's head popped out. She rubbed her eyes a little to adjust to the dark, but after a few seconds her eye shone with recognition. "Mehra?"

She stepped out of the house and embraced the Dunmer woman. "I'm okay, Blatta. I'm free now." The two of them separated. "I take it that word of my imprisonment spread."

"It has. Archanon Saryoni made a public announcement of your arrest just last night, and that you were a member of, as he put it, a secessionist movement group. Word reached me this morning, but I'm sure your 'friends' already know." Blatta explained. She looked at Raedyn. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met."

Raedyn extended his hand. "Raedyn Otheril."

She took his hand. "I suppose I have you to thank for her safe return."

"Ahh," Raedyn smiled and looked at Mehra, "at least someone recognizes a rescuer."

She sighed in frustration. "It's a wonder how _you_ became one of the Blades." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blatta's eyes go wide, and then look around to see if anyone was close enough to hear them. "Now they know your face, and you'll become a wanted man. You should leave us so you don't learn anything more than you already do, so the rest of us can be safe."

"Can't do that." Raedyn put bluntly. "Remember? I need the Lost Prophecies, and I'd like them as soon as possible."

Mehra massaged her temples in frustration. "I don't know how _your kind_ normally operates, but if this is how, then it's a wonder the Empire lasted its first decade." She turned to Blatta and said, "Looks like we're going fishing."

"Fishing?" Raedyn asked.

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Archanon Saryoni stepped, somewhat hesitantly, into the Temple to report to his patron Man-God. Ever since that snake bound him by ancestral oath, every time he'd stood in the presence of his Lord his guts churned. It wasn't that he was afraid of Vivec's wrath, as he knew the Man-God was wise enough to know a betrayal like this was likely against his will, he was ashamed of himself. It boiled his blood to know he was bound by higher powers to operate behind his master's back, and physically unable to rectify his actions.

Another insecurity, curse the fact he had _any_ at all, was that he couldn't know for sure if Vivec already knew about his predicament. It would not have surprised him in the least if his Lord already knew everything, and simply did nothing about it. It was true that this assassin's presence changed little, if anything at all, as Otheril was already marked for death, but the unknown was chaffing his patience and discipline. One possibility for Vivec not confirming his suspicions was he might have been taking the opportunity to test his archanon's faith. With his Lord's seemingly irrational behavior of late, as loath as he was to admit it, he would not have classified the idea as too farfetched.

"Yes, Saryoni." Vivec's melodious voice chimed.

"M'lord, are you aware of the incident in the Ministry of Truth?"

"Yes, I am aware of an incident. I am also aware that Raedyn Otheril was at the heart of it."

The name caught Saryoni by surprise. He hadn't heard that, though the Ordinators were still gathering details and couldn't give any kind of description other than it was a Dunmer in glass armor. He could already feel the tug, the celestial binds pulling him to inform his slave master of this new piece of information. Saryoni resisted, for now, knowing, with the knowledge he had of daedric oaths, that the tugging and desire would only grow until it consumed his mind, then his body, but he knew he could resist for a few minutes. He had to; whether Vivec knew about or not, he would not act upon his forced treachery in the immediate presence of his _true_ master.

Any lack of further explanation meant Vivec could not perceive anymore than he explained. "M'lord, the infiltrator managed to escape after freeing Mehra Milo, the Dissident Priest. In light of this news, would it be safe to say Otheril is an agent of the secessionists?"

"No." Vivec answered, his usually melodious voice monotonous. "He bore only the most distant of ties to these priests until now. This turn of events was to be expected. Events are falling into place, as they have before, as they might yet again."

'Events are falling into place', these words were unsettling for Saryoni. He had been witness to his Lord's otherworldly clairvoyance before, but these words stirred up not only the foreboding suspicion that there was far more to Otheril than simply a Dunmer strong enough to take down an Ordinator, but that Vivec could, perhaps, foresee his movements.

Saryoni cursed his intuition as he felt the binds of his oath tighten. Now he had little choice but to explore the possibility.

"Saryoni, as soon as the opportunity arises, you are to report to the Morag Tong and tell them they will forfeit the writ on Otheril's life." Vivec ordered.

"Yes, M'Lord, I will." He bowed slightly, but didn't leave. "Lord Vivec, forgive me but I must ask: have you any suspicions what course of action Otheril might take from here?"

All this time, Vivec's gaze had been centered on Saryoni's whole body, as he rarely looked a mortal in the eyes. This time, he did. He couldn't tell if it was a spell or his imagination, but those eyes felt like an ocean of pressure rolling across his entire being.

"As he has made contact with the Ashlanders in the past, so shall he seek them out again. It is no coincidence this Mer has sought out them and the Dissident Priests. He is after the Apographa. If he is, then he most certainly will seek out the Ashlanders once he has gained what he searches for."

Saryoni bowed again. "Thank you, M'Lord, for indulging my curiosity." Now he could give his damnable report to that snake of a mortal and be done with it. With any luck, Otheril will kill the misbegotten knave and free him of at least one unholy nuisance.

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It was not until a full hour after the lights of Vivec faded behind them that Blatta bothered to light a torch. Raedyn couldn't fault her for her caution. It was bad enough that she was an associate to the Dissident Priests, but now she was transporting a member of the Blades. Being caught by authorities of the religious kind in that sort of situation was something he cared to avoid as best as possible.

The three of them dipped and tilted gently on the small waves in the fading moonlight. Raedyn wasn't sure how Blatta knew where they were going, apparently she knew the location on Azura's Coast by sight, though he wasn't sure how. As best he could tell, every rock and hill, and occasional bog, all lit by the moon, looked just like the last. He tried to assure himself that Mehra wouldn't trust Blatta without good reason; short tempered as she was, she was very intelligent.

Nearly four hours into their seaward trek, Raedyn noticed that Mehra seemed to be nodding off occasionally. He realized she must have been up for nearly a full day now; it should've been no surprise that she was getting tired. He, on the other hand, felt like he could last another day and a half; apparently another side effect of the Corprus. On his way back to Balmora after leaving Tel Fyr, he only rested at night, as he never seemed to get tired during the day. He even found himself able to run for nearly a full hour before becoming winded.

Unusual talent in melee combat, mysticism, greater strength than an orc, more stamina than a Nord, and then there was his birth-sign. The Atronach was considered a double edged sword in that those born under that sign couldn't regenerate magicka, yet he could. That, apparently, was the only thing that saved him from that assassin in the Foyada Bani-dad. It seemed that he had waited until Raedyn's magicka ran out before approaching. He obviously knew Raedyn's aspect, and had counted on his magicka not regenerating. A part of him hoped that whatever they found in this Holamayan monastery revealed something that disproved him as the Nerevarine.

So caught up in his thought was he that he didn't realize they were heading toward land until the front of the boat bumped onto the rocky shore. He discarded his previous thoughts in favor of the now. "Is this the place?"

"Yes." Blatta answered plainly as Mehra carefully stepped out of the boat and onto the cylindrical rock formations.

"You might want to avoid Ebonheart for a few days." Raedyn suggested. "It's likely they suspected Divine Intervention was used for our escape, so naturally they would search there. They would likely suspect your involvement if you returned so soon. They would also likely suspect we used boat travel to flee, so you might also want to stay clear of major ports."

"Thank you for your concern." She replied. "I can live off the ocean for a few days. Besides, I know a few settlements that aren't on the charts." When Raedyn and Mehra were off the boat, she used a pole to push off and raised the small, triangular sail, and slowly made her way away from the coast.

"With any luck, they'll think we made a run for the mainland." Raedyn commented.

"That would be convenient, but it's not likely. They know we operate on, or close to, Vvardenfell." Mehra replied. "Come, Holamayan is up this trail."

"By the way," Raedyn said as they began their ascent up the cylindrical rocks that seemed in the moonlight to be resemble stairs, "how are we supposed to get back? Will she come back for us later or something?"

"There's a priestess here, Vevrana Aryon, who will take us back. She's good with a boat."

After a few minutes of climbing, they entered a miniature valley surrounded on the sides by large rocky formations. A minute later, they reached a dead end, with a particularly big rock blocking their way.

"This is it." Mehra announced.

Assuming that she wasn't joking, Raedyn pulled a torch out of his satchel, and lit it. The rock that was apparently barring their path was made of a somewhat lighter colored rock than the surrounding environment. "Should we say a password?" He hoped he didn't sound too sarcastic.

"This monastery was once a shrine to Azura." Mehra explained. "After a larger shrine was built further down the coast, this one lost favor and was abandoned for a few centuries before some pilgrims found it, and eventually, it was taken over by the Dissident Priests."

"That still doesn't answer my question." Raedyn said, trying not to be snide.

Mehra sighed in frustration. "Some Blade you are. Do you not know anything about the Daedric Lords? One would assume that's why a Dunmer like you would have been put on an assignment like this." She huffed again before continuing. "Azura is the mistress of the Dawn and Dusk, the magical hours of twilight. The door will open then. We chose this place because unless you were looking in those few hours, they would never find our headquarters."

"I see." He walked over to one of the 'walls', sat down and propped his back against it. "I figure we have another two or three hours to go before dawn." He unsheathed his glass long-sword and laid it over his knees for quick access. "I'm sorry I was so impatient. If it's not obvious, I am rather new to the Blades. I haven't even had any formal training."

Mehra dusted off her robe and sat on the other side from him. "How did you become a Blade then? That is, if you can tell me without killing me."

Raedyn shrugged, looking up at the moon. "Extreme circumstances, I guess. I'm kind of a special case, you might say."

"What, did you assassinate someone who was thought untouchable?" She asked.

He was silent for a few seconds, considering how to answer. He figured it would likely make things easier if he came out with it; it was likely she, and the rest of the Dissident Priests, would find out sooner or later. "The Empire believes I'm going to be the Nerevarine."

He didn't look at Mehra, so he didn't know how she reacted. Nearly a full minute later, she spoke up, in a clear, neutral voice, "If they believe that, then why are they supporting you?"

"Damned if I would know." Raedyn answered. "Maybe they wanted better relations with Morrowind, or they thought I would be easier to control than one born and raised here. Or, however unlikely, they consider Dagoth Ur to be a large enough threat to risk losing the providence to independence."

"Do you think you're the Nerevarine?"

"Again, damned if I know that, or anything for that matter." Raedyn said, and scooted forward a bit to slouch, still looking up at the moon. "All I know is that I'm scared out of my mind, but I know that panicking will only make things worse. Other than that, I don't know what I can do."

"I…see." Mehra said. After a couple minutes, she said, "I'm sorry I was so impatient with you earlier."

Raedyn didn't reply to that. Neither of them said a word until the sky started to brighten, and the large stone in the path raised to reveal the entrance to Holamayan.

End of Chapter Ten.

Author's Notes: Originally this chapter was supposed to go on until Kogoruhn or however its spelled, but this chapter already met my page quota, and I figured I left you guys waiting long enough. If I had included that part, this would've easily exceeded thirty pages. That would mean a longer wait and a LONG chapter for you guys. See, I'm considerate toward my audience. Lazy, but considerate.

Also, if anyone noticed the little reference to the unrealism in Morrowind right before Raedyn went to the Ministry, go you. When I get to my Original Final Fantasy fanfic, there will likely be tons of those.


	11. A Shadow from the Past

A/N: Wow, chapter eleven. I think that's the first time I've ever written that. It doesn't feel special or anything…well, maybe a little. I've never written a story this long. Well, li'l update for my original FF fanfic, I've finally figured out the names for all the characters, and the general backgrounds and what I want to happen to them. Now I just need to figure out names for some of the secondary characters.

Also, I WAS going to include in this chapter the text of the Apographa, but unfortunately, my copy of Morrowind got scratched (last time I leave a CD in a place, unprotected, where the cat could get to it) before I could write it down. I was going to use that scene as the point that explains that it's because of Raedyn's nature as the Nerevarine that his magicka regenerates, despite being born under the sign of the Atronach. Oh well, so much for that scene.

**Chapter Eleven: A Shadow from the Past**

Raedyn sat outside Nibani Maesa's yurt, staring at the early evening sky. He had arrived in the early morning to read The Seven Curses, Lost Prophesies, and Kogrenac's Tools to the Urshilaku Wise Woman, and had to reiterate each one at least twice. By the early afternoon, his throat was hoarse and his eyes were bloodshot, but Nibani Maesa, as much as she talks, was a surprisingly good listener. With the focus she exuded, Raedyn had little doubt she had all but memorized the three books.

Then she had asked him to leave her in silence, 'time for pondering' she said. He wasn't sure if she meant for her or him. He had learned plenty from the Apographa as well. Ever since he learned his first magic spell, he gave little thought to the odd fact that his magicka regenerated, despite being born under the sign of the Atronach.

_His aspect would empower, not stunt._

That was what it said. He had the extra magicka, but it still regenerated.

He turned his head slightly, and saw, far off in the distance, Red Mountain. It appeared dormant, but every time he looked at it, he got the feeling there were eyes on it, staring at him. He knew what lay underneath its ruddy dirt, he knew what it looked like, and he knew he would have to face it.

Once again, the fear rose up within him, like a hot vice in his chest, but he forced the thoughts away, nipped the bud of the terror before it could bloom. He had gotten good at that lately, controlling himself and his emotions before he lost control. He had gone through some horrible things these last two months, but now he felt clearer than ever. Like a repeatedly tempered blade, he was becoming harder, sharper, and more resilient. Caius had told him all his failures and problems were his own doing, but so were his successes and progress. Seeing all that has happened, Raedyn started to wonder if his growth was truly happenstance, inevitable circumstances, or a well orchestrated gauntlet for him to run.

He was vaguely aware of the sound of leather scratching against leather before he heard Nibani Maesa's voice come from the entrance of her yurt saying, "I will see you now."

Raedyn rose, mechanically, and followed her orders without thinking about it. By the time he sat on the rug inside her yurt, he realized he really did not want to hear what she had to say. He wanted to ignore her words, ignore her and this prophecy, but he went along anyway. This, at least, he knew was his own doing, and not some otherworldly influence. He had paid the price for neglecting what he knew to be the wise choices, and he had learned to toughen up to the path that must be taken. He would run away no more.

"I have thought over what you have read to me." Maesa began, "Though I can't say I see your path for certain, I am convinced our crossing was not mere chance. We were brought together for a reason."

_True,_ Raedyn thought, _we weren't. If it weren't for the Daedra or Aedra, it was the Empire that ordered me to meet you._ He kept his thoughts to himself as she continued.

"You have overcome the first two Trials of the Nerevarine, and I would have you undergo the third, but it is not my choice alone." Raedyn nodded to her to explain. "I cannot explain the third trial without the Ashkahn's consent, and he is not so eager for you to see 'the Moon-and-Star in Azura's darkness'." She explained, referring to the Seven Visions.

"Why would he oppose it?" Raedyn asked.

"It is not my place to explain my Ashkahn in his stead. This is, I'm sorry to say, something you two must work out amongst yourselves."

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Farens Dren lay down on the hill under a grey cloak, peering at the camp before him. It would be difficult for the Ashlanders to see him there, even without the mild Chameleon spell in effect, but he could take no chances. The Ashlanders were a hardy, even slightly savage bunch. They would have remembered his face had he shown himself to them again. He couldn't attack Otheril while he was in the camp, even with his best concealment spells.

No, he would wait out the Dunmer. He had waited since the night before, never leaving that spot for more than a couple minutes, only allowing minimal sleep and water, no food. He would wait; allow the torture of anticipation to seep in, making the kill all the more sweet. He would wait, and then, when the time what right, he would have his revenge, he would have his justice, like so many before, and so many to come, and for a while, the memories and screams would retreat into silent respite.

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Raedyn poked his head in through the Ashkahn yurt's flap door and looked at the ground, the polite version of 'knocking on the door'. He figured it was so that the intruder wouldn't cause any kind of ruckus by calling out, and looking at the floor made it difficult to see the yurt itself.

"My hearth welcomes you, Otheril." Sul-Matuul's voice chimed. A moment later, Raedyn entered, and nodded a greeting. "I can guess why you're here, my friend." The Ashkahn continued. "The Third Trial?"

Raedyn nodded. "I trust you have good reasons for not wanting me to undertake the trial?" Raedyn said, trying to keep his tone polite, though this situation irritated him.

"Nibani is a good Wise Woman, but her way is not the way of the warrior. You have skill, Otheril, but that does not make you a warrior. I'll be honest with you, if you undertake the Third Trial, you must be prepared to die." That statement caught Raedyn's attention. "If you are, in fact, not the Nerevarine, then you will not survive, that is all I will tell you for now."

Raedyn held back his inquiries. Caius made sure he understood that one of the most important skills for anybody, not just for Blades agents, is to know when to fight and when to step back. He wanted to know what the hell he was getting himself into, but he held back, knowing he had a better chance of moving a boulder, and it would likely alienate the Ashkahn, and he _needed_ as many allies as he could get.

"I won't send you to your death unless I know you're prepared. My Wise Woman tells me that you are now immune to Corprus. I find this hard to believe, but I'm willing to allow you to prove it. To the south-east lies a Sixth House fort, Kogoruhn." Sul-Matuul started pacing around Raedyn while recounting, "Months past, I lead a garrison into the fort. There, we found Dagoth's followers. Corprus had changed nearly all of them, turning them more into monsters than Mer. I am not so proud as to say I wasn't scared, I was…and we lost more of our own than we should have." He stopped and looked Raedyn hard in the eye. "Since then, I have deemed that land forbidden, I will not suffer others to go there. You are an exceptional case, one I will make an exception for."

Raedyn nodded. "What would you have me do?"

"I will not ask you exterminate all vileness in there; I don't think Nerevar himself could've done such a feat without a small army. No, I will send you into danger itself, and you will retrieve three items. I've been there, so I know of them. First, I need a cup with the symbol of House Dagoth on it. The second is a shield found in the forts lowest depths on the tomb of Dagoth Morin, the Shadow Shield. The third item I need is Corprus Weepings." The thought of harvesting those flaky, veinous pieces of skin sent shivers up and down his spine. He had been around them enough for his elven lifetime. "I will accept no less than one pound of it before I will accept that you are immune to its effects."

Raedyn nodded, pushing aside his uneasiness. "I understand. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Understand that being as strong as ten orcs will not be what protects you." Sul-Matuul explained, "Wit and heart will stop the strongest blade, and they are stronger than the strongest spell. This strength-of-body of yours will serve you well, but only if you understand its uses and limits." He turned his back on Raedyn, indicating he was finished. After Raedyn bowed and gave his formal farewell and left, Sul-Matuul muttered, "I can feel forces gathering, Otheril, growing stronger by the hour. Come back alive, and let me hold on to this fledgling hope in the prophecy."

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His heart raced, pulsing blood pounded his ears, his whole body went hot with anticipation. Otheril had left the camp. His prey was only hours, maybe minutes within his clawed grasp! Crawling backward, Farens Dren got behind the hill, out of sight of the camp, and using a Fortification spell, ran a circuitous path to intercept Otheril. Occasionally, he was able to see the Mer between the undulating hills.

Minutes went by, and he wasn't catching up to his prey. Otheril wasn't particularly fast, but he wasn't slowing down, as if he had infinite stamina. His lungs started to burn in agony, which only fueled his resolve. He wasn't weak! Vazon'Ruhn only made him stronger! He would NOT let this murderer, this breaker of dreams, this _cultist_ to beat him!

As his frustrations grew, the occasional bare tree started to be covered in yellow blossoms, the scarce vegetation became larger, greener, and the smells, old smells, started to come back. When his head started to grow dizzy from exhaustion, his better judgment finally kicked in, and he stopped to catch his breath, collapsing on the ground in the process. No, he couldn't deal justice if he died just following his target.

Those old, familiar smells started to vanish, and he realized he was flashing back to Vazon'Ruhn, back to his home. That happened occasionally, he would get too caught up in the past, forget where he was, forget himself. No, that wouldn't make him deal with the situation, only by killing Otheril would he gain any satisfaction, just as so many before him did. No, it would come, it would come, he just had to be patient.

Reaching into his robes and feeling the satchel there on his hip, he pulled out a map of Vvardenfell and a compass. Using both of those, he checked what his target's path was, and hoped this would reveal where he was going. There was an ancient Chimer ruin in their approximate path, and nothing else unless he planned to run all the way to the Ghost Fence and dig under it. That must've been where he was going. He would catch up with him there, and when Otheril was done and tired with whatever he was doing there, he would deal his justice. It was personal even before Ra'Zhan death, every kill was personal, and this mark's continuous delays made it worse.

No, he would be dead before nightfall. Even if it killed him, Farens Dren would die with that short lived satisfaction of not being weak, that Vazon'Ruhn hadn't destroyed him.

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Sidestepping and spinning on that foot, Raedyn cut off the head of the corprus stalker. He was certain it was the last one in the room, but he still did a quick look around to confirm it. As sharp as his awareness was, he knew that confidence was the rock that trips.

He crouched and placed his sword on the ground, careful to leave it close enough for quick access in case of a surprise attack. One of the Dagoths, and near identical version of Gares, used some spell that had fractured his shield, leaving the normally soft and malleable metal and glass brittle, and one of his latest attackers finally destroyed it, leaving deep claw marks on his arm.

He quickly fetched some bandage strips and a vial out of his pouch. It was the last of his stash, and hopefully he wouldn't encounter much more trouble. Pulling the small cork out of the bottle, he poured a little on the bandage, and wrapped it around his bleeding arm. He quickly felt the soothing feel of the medicine, and knew that it would soon clot up the wound. He drank the rest of the vial, letting the medicine get into his system to heal his muscles and any small fractures from the inside.

He had taken quite a beating since entering Kogoruhn. The name translated as The Testing Temple or Altar. It was certainly testing him. He learned quickly to not rely on his strength to win the fights, just like Sul-Matuul told him, and used nearly every trick he learned from Caius to survive. He tried being stealthy, but that ended in disaster, and nearly got him killed. He wasn't nearly as quiet nor as good at sticking to shadows as he was back when he was a street rat.

Despite all that, he finally made it to the bottom of the fort, and found Dagoth Morin's tomb, and the Shadow Shield. As he started putting the vial and bandage roll back in his sack, his fingers brushed some scrolls at the bottom. He realized he had completely forgotten about those things; they were the Scrolls of Icarian Flight he found on the Bosmer that seemed to fall out of the sky on his first day in Vvardenfell. He remembered Tyermaillin's description of them, and his recommendation to sell them off. He wasn't sure why he hadn't already done as his senior Blades agent had suggested, and figured he would do it as soon as he returned to one of the Mage's Guild.

Closing the sack, Raedyn walked over to the tomb and picked up the Dwemer shield. It felt slightly heavier than his glass shield had, but he knew it was actually several times heavier. It felt as heavy as his old shield felt before he contracted Corprus. He decided he could use it. With that, and the cup in his backpack, and a sack at his hip full of at least a pound of Corprus Weepings, he could finally leave that horrible place.

He quickly navigated the corridors and halls back to the surface. He didn't know if Recall worked underground, and he didn't want to find out first hand. At long last, he found himself outside, under the sun. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and took a deep breath of fresh air. After a few seconds of letting the fresh air fill his lungs and body, he exhaled and opened his eyes…

…only to find he couldn't see! A brief moment of panic took him before he took control of himself, and found himself back in that calmness he experienced back in Illunibi. He realized he was under a Blind spell. Every muscle in his body relaxed, his breath regulated, and he focused on all his senses at once. It was the only thing that saved him.

It was very faint, but he thought he heard the sound of dirt crunching, and air whirring, like it does when he swings his sword. The very moment he heard these sounds, he jumped back, lifting his shield to his head. He felt the end of something very heavy and sharp impact it, tearing a deep scratch across the Dwemer alloy.

His sword was out in a flash, and the moment his foot touched the ground, he bounded forward, catching the arm of the attacker between two of the four 'fans' of his shield, and pinned the arm to it's body before beheading it. Halfway through the cut, the body seemed to vanish. _Conjuration!_ Raedyn realized. He also realized that meant whoever was attacking him could bring more.

Almost as soon as that thought occurred to him, he used a powerful Detection spell. Right then, he saw he was surrounded by several vaguely human forms. One of them raised something with both hands, running toward him, and reactively, Raedyn pounced. While sheathing his sword, he raised his shield up to hit the weapon in the pommel, keeping it up in the air, while he punched the opponent in the gut. His gauntlet cracked under the force, and the being's stomach was well armored, but it was still hard enough to cause it to double over. Raedyn quickly grabbed the blade out of the daedra's hands, some kind of claymore he deducted, and with his left hand, while still gripping his shield, grabbed onto his opponent's armor, and threw him at the nearest opponent. A moment later, both masses vanished from Raedyn's sight. He then threw the enemy claymore at another of the purplish masses in his vision, the weapon impaling it with such force that it was thrown completely off his feet, and he disappeared before it could hit the ground.

He then heard loud footsteps from behind, and turned and saw another one charging, arms in the air ready for a downward swing. Raedyn waited for the right moment, then sidestepped while swinging up with his sword, severing the Daedra's arms, a moment later he took off its head.

Raedyn turned his head and saw there was only one figure left. It was the only one that hadn't attacked him, so it had to be the one who had conjured the others. Pulling his sword out, Raedyn charged. Suddenly, the purplish mass dissipated, and Raedyn realized his Detection spell had worn off, but the Blind spell was still in effect!

He immediately stopped, forced himself to calmed down, and focused on his sense of hearing. He couldn't use another Detection spell until he was certain that his opponent wasn't attacking him. He could barely make out breathing, about ten feet away, but he didn't hear any footsteps. The opponent likely didn't know his Detection spell had worn off.

Raedyn charged up the magicka to use another Detection spell, when suddenly there was a sharp _thwap_ noise, and a great pain in his calf. _An archer!_ He realized a moment later when the shock of the pain subsided. Then he heard the noise of the footsteps rushing toward him. He raised his shield in front of him while trying to use another Detection spell, but realized he was out of magicka. That arrow must have been enchanted or poisoned!

Realizing his opponent was right in front of him, Raedyn instinctively brought the shield in front of his face, hunching his shoulders to brace himself. The sword impacted the side of the shield hard, pushing it to the side and hitting the Mer in the jaw, sending pain through his whole head. Ignoring the pain and blood slowly flowing down his neck, Raedyn grabbed the arm in front of him, then the body of the attacker. He was wearing the same armor as the opponents from before! He wasn't the conjurer, the archer was!

_The archer!_ Raedyn realized he was still exposed to that opponent. Several thoughts flashed through his head in an instant. He calculated from which direction the opponent fired from, and realized it was fired from the Dome of Pollocks Eve. From that direction, the only exposed part of his body a normal arrow would pierce was his calf, as the rest of his body was armored. He also realized the arrow's angle was too steep; it must have been fired from _on top_ of the dome. Mentally checking where he was in relation to where he had come out, where he had moved during the fight, and compared it to his memory of the layout of the top of the fort, he threw the Daedra in his hands toward the Dome.

He hoped he was on target, and a moment before he heard a crash, he heard a Merish curse. Just having his attacker on the run, even for just a moment, helped Raedyn's confidence. Mentally checking where he was, he ran toward cover behind the nearest structure. There, he waited and listened. One of three things would happen first: his magicka would regenerate enough so he could use Recall, his opponent would attack, or the Blind spell would wear off. Fortunately, the third happened first.

When his eyesight returned, Raedyn released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He then moved around the corner, and peaked out. Nothing.

Suddenly, behind him he heard a spell being cast. He immediately turned around and saw a Dunmer in black robes appearing out of thin air as he cast a spell that flew toward him. He knew what the color of that magicka meant: illusion magic, another Blind spell. All this information was processed instantly, and he knew he couldn't dodge it fast enough. The moment it struck his chest, however, the green spell turned white, and it was absorbed into Raedyn. It was one of the few times he was glad he was born under the sign of the Atronach.

"Shit!" The assassin Mer cursed, and pulled out a glass short sword and attacked, not leaving Raedyn enough time to cast a spell. Raedyn quickly realized this Mer was neither fast nor strong as he easily deflected the attack with his shield and went for the kill with his glass long sword. A moment before the attack could connect, however, the assassin cast a Sanctuary spell, distorting his body enough that Raedyn couldn't redirect it enough to hit the assassin as he dodged the attack. The spell only lasted a moment before he reappeared and struck.

Instead of simply blocking the stab, Raedyn shoulder rammed his opponent, sending the thin Mer back several feet. Raedyn nearly collapsed at that point, as he had used his right leg, the one with the arrow in it, to push his opponent away.

"Did you enjoy it?" The assassin hissed as he went back on the offensive. Raedyn realized that, although weak and slow, the opponent was skilled, his movements difficult to interpret, and with his bad leg, he was at a disadvantage.

"Did you enjoy killing my friend?" The other Mer hissed as he pulled off another attack after using a powerful but short Sanctuary spell to dodge Raedyn's counter.

"Who," Raedyn was about to continue when he realized who the Mer was talking about. _The Khajiit!_ "He was your friend!" He exclaimed while deflecting the assassin's attacks.

"Did you enjoy mutilating him? Burning him? Disfiguring his face to make him suffer before you killed him?" He was shouting now, going on full offensive, his speed increasing.

Normally, those words wouldn't have affected Raedyn, he would've focused purely on surviving, but the Mer's words, the hurt in his voice, broke the calmness that had kept Raedyn alive so far. He _had_ enjoyed it. He enjoyed the anticipation of outwitting and finishing whoever had been following him.

His focus was broken, and the assassin had gained the upper hand. He was being pushed back, his defenses and counters were becoming jerky, slow. The more he was advanced upon, the more he lost his concentration. He didn't have quite enough magicka back yet to use Recall, but if he didn't get away quickly, he was going to die!

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Otheril's jerky counterattack nearly clipped him, but he managed to use his free arm to redirect it, and a trained reflex kicked in where he used a Mark spell on Otheril's gauntlet. Now he wouldn't get away. He was winning. He had to do it the old fashioned way, but he was doing it! He was going to get his kill, and he would have that blissful peace! It was so close, he could almost taste it.

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" He yelled at the younger Mer, who was trying to regain his balance. He could feel heat spreading throughout his whole body, the enjoyment of the fight, the thrill of winning, and the anger at his opponent. He not only killed his best friend, he also humiliated him by evading him for so long. And he did more…oh yes, he did more.

"You were there, weren't you?" Farens growled, with renewed vigor. "Did you enjoy Vazon'Ruhn, too?"

For a moment, confusion briefly mixed with the frustrated look on Otheril's face. Anger exploded within him. "You were there, I know it!" He pushed himself harder, pushed himself until his lungs burned, until he had no more breath, yet he kept pushing himself harder. He was there! He could see him there, leading the others, he was there in Vazon'Ruhn! How could he have not remembered?

Suddenly, Otheril jumped back, nearly collapsing on his bad leg, and reached into his sack. An instant later, there was a small flash of magicka, and Farens, in his rage, realized he had used a magic scroll. Then, Otheril crouched, and jumped away, his body flying at impossible speeds over the nearby hills.

Rage filled Farens. "You're not getting away from me!" He screamed, then pulled out a Black Hand's Dagger, and used a Recall spell. Suddenly, air was assaulting him as he was instantly flying right next to Otheril, his arm on his target's gauntlet.

Farens screamed as he rammed the dagger into Otheril's gut, cutting through the armor like it was paper, then pulled out and did it again and again. Before he could plunge it in a forth time, Otheril managed to get a good enough hold of Dren to wrench the dagger away from him, and push him away. An instant later, he had unlatched his gauntlet, and before Farens could do something, Otheril used Recall.

Farens wanted to scream, to cut, to garrote and strangle and beat and kill. He wanted his satisfaction! He looked up, and saw he was heading straight for a hill at speeds that would kill him. Hissing in frustration, he used an Intervention spell, swearing he wouldn't stop until he killed Otheril.

End of Chapter Eleven.

Author's Notes: Wow, I completed this in less than two months, go me! Okay, so tomorrow will have been the two month mark, so sue me, at least I beat it! Oh, and in case you're wondering "was Raedyn actually at Vazon'Ruhn", the answer would be no, crazy Farens was just having a flashback, like he was earlier in the chapter. Sorry if it wasn't obvious. Oh, and if you're curious about Vazon'Ruhn, you'll find out about it in the next chapter.

Anyways, onto other news, I got an X-Box 360 for Christmas, w00t! Mass Effect and Bioshock are some of the most awesome games I've ever played. But don't you fear, I'm not giving up on this! And other, much less important news for me but probably more important for you, I've started on my original Final Fantasy fic. It's currently named Bonds of Trust, but I'll use a better name if one comes up. You should expect it within a week or two. Beside the prologue and the first chapter (which will be posted simultaneously), each update on that story won't be uploaded until I update this story as well. That should help me concentrate on this as well. Sayonara.


	12. Under the Eye of Azura

**Chapter Twelve: Under the Eye of Azura**

The gentle cackling of fire pulled him from his sleep. As Raedyn's eyes adjusted in the dim light, he looked up at the tan ceiling and watched the shadows from the fire and yurt pitches dance. He felt light, numb, as if the world was spinning around him. Where was he? How did he get there? He had to get up and find out.

The moment he tried to sit up, sharp pain radiated across his stomach, forcing him to stop and groan in pain. He heard a scuttling sound, and saw on the other side of the fire Nibani Maesa getting up from her small table with its crude alchemy equipment. She moved to him quickly, and gently, but firmly, pressed her hand to his chest. "No, you need to rest." She commanded.

The gentle but absolute authority in her voice, as well as the pain in his stomach, took away any will to resist. As he laid back down, the Wise Woman took off the blanket and checked on his heavily bandaged abdomen. "You are lucky, muthserjo, that your injuries were not worse, but you still need to heal."

"Where's my armor?" He asked in a coarse voice.

"It's safe with my Lord Ashkahn." She answered, and apparently decided he hadn't opened up his wounds.

It started coming back to Raedyn just how he ended up there. He had managed to recover enough magicka to use Recall, but only after that bastard stabbed him. A moment later when he appeared in the middle of the camp, he could hardly see, and he was bleeding profusely. He saw a few Ashlanders run toward him, but he must have passed out before they reached him. He suddenly remembered the dagger he stole from his opponent.

"Where's the dagger I had?"

Maesa was walking back to her table when he asked, and she stopped. "It's with your armor." She turned around and got down on her knees next to him. "Where did you find that weapon?"

"Someone attacked me as I was leaving Kogoruhn. The dagger was his." He squirmed a little under the lingering pain in his stomach. "It must have been enchanted."

"It was." Maesa confirmed. "Zabamund checked it, and confirmed it was a Morag Tong weapon, a Black Hand's Dagger."

He had figured it was Morag Tong. "What was the enchantment?"

"We all have energies within ourselves that naturally heals our bodies when hurt. Besides blinding you, the dagger steals away those energies, hurting you and healing the wielder." Maesa explained. "Normally, those wounds would have been dangerous, but with the enchantment it nearly killed you before we could help."

Blue magicka started to gather on her hand, and she pressed it to his abdomen. "Because of the enchantment, healing with magic will be slow, but it will help. My Lord Ashkahn wishes to see you once I deem you suitable for travel."

Raedyn nodded, then slowly went back to sleep.

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The next day, being able to walk a little, Raedyn walked out of Nibani Maesa's yurt, and leaned against a rock to watch the actions of the camp. Little ones scampered about, playing simple games of tag, stick sword fighting, kick-the-rock, the adults washed clothes, distilled clean water from seawater, left the village only to come back hours later with vegetation or a dead nix-hound. Some even worked together to build a clay forge to help with the villager's armor. Everyone did stuff, no one was sitting about and thinking how harsh life was in the Ashlands. It was a very strange thing to watch.

Around mid-afternoon, Raedyn saw a patch of pale skin among the dark indigo faces. He realized an Imperial had come to the village. Slowly getting up, not wanting to reopen his wounds, the Dunmer Blade walked over and realized the Imperial seemed somewhat familiar.

After exchanging a few well rehearsed greetings among a few of the villagers, the Imperial saw Raedyn, and looked like he recognized him as well. "I know you." He said, walking over to him. "You're…Otheril, was it?"

Raedyn came to remember where he had met him as well. He was the contact for his very first mission. "Has…Has-something, Hazard?"

The Imperial gave out a hearty laugh that would've made a Nord proud. "That was good. It's Hasphat Antabolis, Fighter's Guild at your service." He gave a bow that would've made a Breton proud. He straightened up, and seemed to somber up slightly. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here."

"Why's that?" Raedyn asked. He couldn't remember if this Imperial knew he and Caius were Blades agents or not, so he would have to be careful with what he said.

"I recently spent some time in the Molag Amur region looking for Dwemer ruins, and during my stay in Molag Mar, I saw a few posters displaying your visage and your name, saying you tried to kill an Ordinator, and that you were a dangerous heretic. I saw some Ordinators getting worked up amongst themselves about taking your poster down or not. It seems the Temple lifted your wanted status, and these guys didn't like it."

This surprised Raedyn. "Figuratively speaking here, if I was guilty of that crime, what would cause them to undo such a warrant?"

Hasphat shrugged. "My first idea may be that they had reason to believe they made a mistake, but with the way the Temple has been these last ten years, it could be anything. I've lived in Morrowind over forty years, I've seen the Temple and government go through a lot in that time, but even this is strange."

Raedyn nodded, somewhat despondent that things in Morrowind appeared to be getting worse around him. "Thanks for the news." He turned around and started to move away when suddenly an idea occurred to him. "Antabolis," he said, turning around, "you've lived in Morrowind your whole life, right? Have you ever heard of a place called Vazon'Ruhn?"

Hasphat's eyes went wide in surprise. "Don't say that name!" He whispered sharply, "It's a dangerous subject."

He was slightly taken aback by this. "Even among the Ashlanders?"

"Not here!" He warned quietly. He then pointed toward a crop of rocks fifty feet outside the camp. "We can talk about it there." Without waiting for approval, Hasphat made his way through the camp toward the designated spot, Raedyn following with some difficulty as his wounds still pained him.

When the two of them were safely out of earshot of the Ashlanders, Raedyn sat down with his back against the rocks and asked. "So what's so controversial about Vazon'Ruhn?"

"The Temple considers discussing it the same as discussing sedition." Hasphat explained, "I don't want the Ashlanders to hear, since many of them are looking for an excuse to down talk the Temple, and if they brought up _that_ subject within their earshot, no one would see him again."

Raedyn had a foreboding feeling about this topic. "What happened?"

The Imperial rubbed his chin, thinking about where to start. "About fifty years ago, there was a growing cult of Nerevarine fanatics on the mainland. This wasn't your typical cult, it was full of loose cannons. They hated the Temple so much they not only got violent with the Temple and its allies, but everyone who was associated with them, no matter how small, and they believed everything they did was justified: pillage, vandalism, arson, even rape and murder. The Temple claimed they were doing everything they could, but the word underground is that they purposefully ignored several opportunities to strike back at them."

"Why?" Raedyn asked.

"Politics. They used what the cult did as a means of changing people's point of view, to instill the idea that Nerevarine cultists were all savage and violent. They used the cult's actions to keep the people from believing what the cultists said. Then, Vazon'Ruhn happened."

Hasphat closed his eyes, and took a breath, "It was a village on the northern mainland, less than a half-day's boat travel from Vivec. They were mostly farmers and fishermen, but they were a proud and hardy bunch. The Ordinators are mostly from the Great Dunmer Houses, most of those from House Indoril, but there were exceptions. Most of those exceptions came from Vazon'Ruhn.

"One day, the Temple gathered intelligence saying the cultists were going to attack Vazon'Ruhn and burn it to the ground. They sent thirty Ordinators, saying they estimated fifty cultists were on their way."

"And that wasn't the truth?" Raedyn asked.

"No, the real estimates were correct at three hundred cultists. It seemed the Temple figured, against those odds, thirty Ordinators would be enough to kill many of them and route what was left, but not before causing some significant damage to the village. Vazon'Ruhn is a kind of symbol for Temple goers, a sign that even the peasants can and will be accepted, as well as a symbol for the power and ability of the common people. But the operation couldn't have gone more wrong."

"The Ordinators failed?" Raedyn asked.

"In a sense. One look at the three hundred cultists coming after them and they ran, leaving the village defenseless. They may have been a hardy and devout group, but very few of them had any real combat experience, and the village was burned and every citizen killed, right down to the last man, woman, and child."

Raedyn's eyes went wide. "What? Why was it banned, then?"

"It wasn't banned, not officially, but those who've heard the truth know better than to speak it. The Ordinators are a law unto themselves, they answer only to the Temple, and admitting those Mer abandoned their posts would've seriously jeopardized the reputation of the Ordinators, the right hand of the Temple. The official story was that all the Ordinators that were sent tragically died in the attack, and the official _underground_ story is that all the Ordinators involved were relocated and most of them are still serving the Temple. Some say that was when the Dissident Priests were born, especially when the rumors of a survivor appeared."

"A survivor?" Raedyn asked suddenly. "Someone survived?"

"Even underground, no one knows for sure other than the rumors. They say that, after the attack, the Ordinators returned to the village to look for survivors, though some believe they returned only to finish off any who knew the truth. There they found a half-dead Dunmer adolescent, who yelled at them in fury, calling them disgraces. After saying a little too much, they attacked him with a spell. Are you familiar with the _damage attribute_ type of spell?"

"It's a type of spell that damages the body's ability to heal itself and grow," Raedyn answered, using the knowledge he got from the Mage's Guild and Tyermaillin, "greatly hindering their physical potential."

"Exactly." Hasphat said. "He was an able bodied youth, but when they were done with him, he was barely able to move. Despite that and their abandonment, none of them faced any charges of misconduct."

"That would've been the same as saying they were just a fallible as anyone else." Raedyn stated.

"Exactly." Hasphat agreed. "They tried to cover everything up, and many believed them, but there were still rumors of what really happened. That was when many started seeing there was something very wrong with the Temple."

"They cared more about their reputation than the people they claimed to be protecting." Raedyn said, looking at the ground in front of him. Something was growing within him, the beginnings of a raging storm. "They lied so they could ignore what was happening to those around them." He slowly got back to his feet, no longer careful not to reopen his wounds. "Thank you Mister Antabolis." He said distantly while he turned and walked back into the camp, his feet moving with a heavy purpose.

This was wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Someone had to change it.

He walked into the Wise Woman's yurt without asking for admittance. She was kneeling in front of her table, mixing various salves with her alchemy set. "Maesa," he said suddenly, authoritatively, surprising her by his entrance, "tell your Ashkahn that I'm fit for travel."

Her eyes narrowed at his abruptness. "Otheril, that is not your decision to-" She stopped when he sent her a glare full of dagger more deadly than the one he was attacked with.

"You will. Tell your Ashkahn. I am ready. For the Third Trial. _Wise Woman!_" Raedyn said her title as if _she_ was the one out of line.

Shocked at the vehemence in his voice and eyes, she was able to do little else but comply with his orders.

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Step after step, breath after breath, Raedyn marched across the Ashlands; for the first time he could ever remember, he moved not away from the past, his sins, his crimes, his burdens, but toward them, toward his destiny. The burning sun couldn't bother him, not with the tempestuous rage burning within him. The powerful gusts of the Valley of the Wind couldn't slow his step, the weight of his burden and the power of his resolve couldn't, _wouldn't_ be deterred.

This was wrong. There were people suffering because of the Temple, the very people they claim to protect. Everyone needed, _deserved_ to have someone they could trust! He remembered it all too well: those years all alone, no friends, no allies, every hand held a knife that could find his back or his throat, no one he could turn to for help or comfort. For so long, he believed he could never trust someone like he trusted his mother to protect him, and then he found Caius, the closest thing he ever had to a mentor, a father. He trusted the old man, and with that trust, he remembered those halcyon days when he was a child. No one deserved to have that feeling taken away, to be left in a cold, damp alley with naught but the cloth on their backs with no one to trust.

No one deserved what was done to that assassin. If Raedyn were to be honest with himself, he would realize he was angry at himself more than at the Temple. He and the assassin were very much alike, left alone with nothing, no one, forced to fend for themselves. But whatever pain Raedyn felt was exponentially worse for the assassin: he lost his parents, relatives, home, friends, his entire past and future in one night…

And it was someone else's fault. For fifty years, that Dunmer had to deal with the Temple keeping their apologies to themselves, laughing at him while the cries of his pain fell on deaf ears. Raedyn had looked into the assassin's eyes, and saw himself reflected back at him. For years he told himself no one else shared his pain, and in that moment he realized he was wrong, and that this Dunmer not only knew the same pain, but had felt even worse.

This was what made him so angry. He cared only about his own suffering and loneliness when there were others suffering so much more than him. He shunned his own blessings and gifts, called them curses and used them as excuses to shirk his responsibility.

No more. No more would he cower in fear, using petty excuses to comfort himself when there were others who needed comfort more. Someone had to help them, someone needed to change things, needed to end what was wrong.

If no one else would step up, then he would. If that meant becoming the Nerevarine, he would do it. If he had to destroy Dagoth Ur to do it, so be it. If he had to crush the Temple to its foundations and force three man-gods to their knees, not even Akatosh himself could stop him.

If no one else would, he would.

_What he puts his hand to, that shall be done. What is left undone, that shall be done._

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After two days of trekking across the barren Ashlands, Raedyn completed the half-day march down the throat of the Valley of Wind, where he found the ornate door. The iron was cold to the touch, and wouldn't budge under his hands. _If hands don't work…_Raedyn thought a moment before hitting the door with a powerful spin kick Caius taught him.

When the door didn't budge, Raedyn huffed. "Fine, hide in there, Daedra!" He called out. As he started pacing in front of the door, he continued, speaking out to the song of the howling winds, "Dawn and dusk, right? We can only bother you on your time, correct? Do you want your stupid prophecy done or not?"

Spoken to the winds, and only the winds answered him. "So that's how it is. You know what?" Raedyn spoke steadily, quietly, but that didn't hide his vehemence. "Forget you. I'll save Morrowind, but not for you. I'll do it even without your help if I must."

He stood there, staring at the rocky wall for several minutes, staring at the door engraved with crescent moons and morning suns. Shaking his head, Raedyn walked over to the wall next to the door, and propped his back against it. "Fine, I'll wait."

After a few minutes, he shook his head. _Stop being foolish,_ he told himself. _Your temper won't help. You're better than this now._ And he was better now, better than he ever had been. As a peasant, his life felt empty, and now, with a goal in front of him, he was still alone, still without any stability or reason to be happy or even content, but he didn't care. He wanted to help Morrowind, the Dunmer, and the Ashlanders. This newfound desire made his past and his pain bearable.

He wondered, at some point, if he would've felt this way had he not gone through such hardship, forced to endure starvation, disease, the elements and prison. This came as a bit of a shock, the idea that all of it could have been preparation, a forge to mold and temper him into what he was destined to become. All he had been through could have been orchestrated by Azura herself.

After pondering this, that he was going to for help the very one who broke him in the first place, he realized he didn't care. Morrowind was all that mattered, helping those who suffered…

…suffered as he did. He wondered if he was truly doing this for the needy, or for himself. Was his desire to help others born out of a desire to help himself, that he saw himself when looking at others who shared his pain? Was it just a way to strike back at the past that continually hounded him?

He shook his head once again when he realized he didn't care about that either; he knew what he wanted to do. It was likely Azura was doing this for herself as well.

Suddenly it hit him: this whole prophecy wasn't about saving Morrowind and its people, it was about destroying the Heart of Lorkhan and those who used its power. Nerevar was to restore Daedra worship, but instead the people of Morrowind either worship the Tribunal or Dagoth Ur. With them gone, he was to lead the people into worshiping the Daedra once again.

Raedyn laughed, closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the rocky wall. Three birds with one stone, as they would say back in Cyrodiil. Azura was good. If she was this good, he dared not think of what Mephala was capable of.

He opened his eyes, and found he was not outside anymore. Senses on high alert, he instantly put his weight back on his feet and scanned the room. He was in a cave, and right next to him was the moon-and-morning-sun door. Opposite that, down a short stretch of cavern, lay a statue of a feminine figure with her hands cupped in front of her. He was in the Cavern of the Incarnate.

Had he really been waiting that long outside? Driving the question out of his mind, he walked forward, making sure his Glass sword was loose in its sheath. In the small room lay several mummified bodies surrounding the figure of Azura, as he recognized her now. In her hands lay a small ring, a crest on the white-gold band: a crescent moon encircling an eight point star. One Clan under Moon and Star. He didn't know if it were nerves or genuine familiarity he felt when looking at the ring.

This was it, the true test to see if he was who everyone claimed him to be. He lifted his hand, but when he meant to reach out for the ring, he held back. If he was Nerevar Incarnate, he would be able to wear the ring; if not, he would die. He tried to touch it again, and again he hesitated. There _were_ others before him who fulfilled the trails up until this point, others who were long dead, those who failed to fulfill their destinies. Could this ring have been responsible for those corpses littering the room?

For a moment, he wondered if he could somehow fulfill the prophecy without the ring, if it was possible to take down the Tribunal on his own. He couldn't, not on his own. He needed allies, people he could trust, people who could help him. "What must be done, I cannot do alone." He said aloud on impulse. Suddenly a powerful sense of Déjà vu struck him.

_There were two others in the room with him, one a woman with golden skin and crimson hair, the other a tall Mer with a thick beard. In his hand lay the Moon-and-Star. "What must be done, I cannot do alone." He said, though in a different voice._

Then he was back in the cave, the Moon-and-Star just inches from his fingers. Raedyn knew this would never be over if he didn't try. He had spent his entire life just trying to survive, now he was to give his life up to fate's fickle hand. No, a Daedra's fickle hand.

He took three deep breaths, and he grabbed the ring.

For several agonizingly long moments, nothing happened. The only things that moved were the shadows cast by the candles in the room. A few moments later, Raedyn let out his breath, and looked at the ring in his hand.

**Nerevar Reborn.**

Raedyn jumped and landed hard on his butt at the sudden, unearthly voice.

**Incarnate.**

Raedyn looked up and saw the lips on the stone statue move with the words.

**The first three Trials have you passed, now two more lay before you.**

For a moment, it looked as if the mummified corpses on the ground were getting up, but then he realized they were ghosts leaving the bodies. They all stood up, and then started walking toward him. Panic gripped him, and he desperately crawled away.

**Your path lies before you. Three Houses must call you Hortator, four Ashlander Tribes must call you Nerevarine, only then will you receive the blessing you need to march upon Red Mountain.**

The ghosts were getting closer, close enough now that each Dunmer face looked down at him.

"You are the next." One of them said.

"We are your predecessors." Another one of them said.

"We were the Incarnates."

"But we were not The One."

"In life we failed."

"In death we are bound."

The cavern seemed to resonate as they all spoke at once, "Only you can free us."

Suddenly, Raedyn was outside, the sun was gone and dusk had settled in…

…and the ring was still in his hand.

On his elbows, Raedyn looked at it, his heart starting to slow down to its regular rhythm. This wasn't a victory, it was only one step completed. He had a mission to accomplish. Getting up, he decided to walk back to the village instead of using Recall. He needed time to think over his next move.

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Nearly three days later, Raedyn walked into the Urshilaku Camp shortly before midday. He kept the ring in his hand, concealed, so that none of the Ashlanders would know prematurely who and what he was. Revealing that too soon could have been disastrous.

Moving over to the Ashkhan's yurt, Raedyn stuck his head in through the flap, eyes straight at the ground, and asked for entry. When it was granted, he looked up to see Nibani Maesa was already in there, consulting with her Ashkhan. _Good, it saves me time._ He thought.

Walking in, the two Ashlanders apparently forgoing their discussion, Raedyn lifted his hand and showed them the ring held within it. There were no gasps, no cries for joy and salvation, no overt reactions at all; there was only quiet acceptance within the yurt.

He then put the ring on his finger, and felt the same sensation he felt when he had put it on those times before. All conscious creatures around him became blurry, as if becoming a caricature in an oil panting. Images popped up in his mind when he focused on one of the two. Sul-Matuul's visions were of grazing in lands not covered in ash, and Red Mountain containing clear skies. Nibani Maesa had several visions of people, most Dunmer with a few Imperials, renouncing her and her faith; probably from her past. The times he had put it on during his trip back, the nearby animals all thought primitive, simple thoughts. These were far clearer.

Taking the ring of so he could focus, he placed it in his pocket, and said, "I would like some council." He then recited the events that took place in the Cavern of the Incarnate, and the next two Trials he was to undertake. "What would happen if I were to reveal myself to the Ashlander tribes?"

"Word would reach all ears within Vvardenfell of your coming." Nibani Maesa explained. "Each tribe would send out messengers to every settlement, singing your praise and destiny. They would demand all to throw away their false gods and witness the true savior before them."

"You have shown yourself worthy and true, Otheril." Sul-Matuul said. "With but a word from you, the Urshilaku will proclaim you our Nerevar Incarnate."

Raedyn shook his head. "No, not yet, becoming Hortator will be difficult in itself, but if I were known to be the Nerevarine, it would be even tougher. If I were to become Hortator before revealing myself as the Nerevarine, the Great Houses would have little choice but to accept me."

The two Ashlander leaders nodded in understanding. "I see now there is little we can do to council you further, Lord Nerevar." Nibani Maesa said. "We shall await your next coming."

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Author's Notes: Well, less than two months again, I'm on a roll! I've really got to set aside a set time to write every day and stick to it religiously. If I did that, I could update at least once every two weeks. Alas, job hunting, chores, and video games keep me from it.


	13. Blood Money

Chapter Thirteen: Blood Money

**Chapter Thirteen: Blood Money**

The idea was simple: with the depravity and insularity of the Telvanni and the greed of the Hlaalu, gaining the favor of Redoran first would be ideal. By becoming Hortator of the most honor bound House first, it would, in theory, make him appear more honorable and less like he was attempting to exploit the Houses.

The idea was simple, but he hadn't counted on how difficult it would be. He spent nearly three hours talking to the Councilors under the Great Skar, yet each one turned him down. The Moon-and-Star helped him tremendously, though; it allowed him to at least talk to the Councilors before they could turn him away. It was odd at first, but he eventually learned to interpret the visions he got from others, and was able to say something to hook their attention or know what not to say to drive them away.

However, with the ring he started to feel that Redoran was less of a House of honor bound warriors and more like an honor bound bureaucracy, as no amount of persuasion or disposition could get them to break protocol and give him their vote. Many believed there truly was a danger, and a few believed he might have actually been the Nerevarine, but everyone was held back by the same reoccurring image of a great warrior in ebony armor that everyone either respected, followed, or feared. Often, it was all three feelings that accompanied the images.

Next on the list was Bolvyn Venim. From what he had gathered from the guards, Venim was a highly decorated general who fought the blight creatures bravely and survived hundreds of battles over the three hundred years he was head of the Venim clan. He started to feel this meeting would either be very profitable or a complete disaster.

He made his way through Venim Manor and found Bolvyn himself, covered in ebony with a gigantic weapon of daedric origin on his back, surrounded by assorted associates, all apparently hobnobbing with various degrees of success.

When the clan head caught sight of Raedyn in his glass armor, he handed his tankard to a well dressed woman, from the looks they gave each other Raedyn guessed she was his mistress, and the older Mer moved toward him.

Raedyn bowed deeply. "Bolvyn Venim, I assume?" A few new images passed through the Mer's mind, images of either peasants with his face demanding all his riches, or the Temple asking for his power so they could do nothing. Apparently, this Mer didn't have a high opinion of those groups, and guessed Raedyn was associated with one of them.

"That's me, _Outlander_. What do you want?"

Raedyn had to stop himself from wincing at yet another Morrowind native noticing he wasn't one of them. Putting his mind back on the problem at hand, he knew the clan head had fought Red Mountain and its creatures before. "I bring news concerning Red Mountain."

Instantly, he was assaulted by images of anger, especially at Raedyn, as his face appeared on ungrateful peasants, Temple goers, other Houses, and he was mocking the Mer and all his accomplishments.

"I have nothing to say to you, and you have nothing to say to me." Venim told him with vehemence. "Now leave before I order the guard."

Raedyn got a brief glimpse of a scene from the older Mer's past: dozens of dead bodies, many of which were Redoran retainers. "Master Venim, please, you must listen. Lives are at stake!" New images passed through his mind; images of superiors dying before him and him being next in line, victories that were supposed to be impossible, those under him dying and surviving, and many scared faces looking to him for guidance.

"I will listen to none of your words, _Outlander_!" Venim's face started to show the anger that was in his mind. "No one will lead Redoran but me, no one! It's my duty and mine alone."

Suddenly, the images coming from the Mer's mind made sense. "It's not your duty, it's your atonement." Raedyn said, a slight tone of surprise coming through. "You can't bring yourself to trust anyone else, so you put all the weight on your own shoulders, both the victories and failures. Surely, someone of your stature and experience would understand you can't do everything on your own, and not everything is your fault." Suddenly, Raedyn stopped talking as Venim's dai-katana was pressed against his throat in a flash.

"Not another word." The Mer's whisper was a hiss. "Not a moan, not even a breath. Leave, or I will kill you."

Raedyn slowly backed away, not even daring to breath, and when he was out of range of the long sword, he turned and walked as fast as he could toward the manor's exit. He was right: the meeting did become a disaster.

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The Councilors he met with after that told him the same as the others: No. More and more, he got the impression that Venim was the de facto ruler of Redoran. Now, he was at the last councilor on the list: Athyn Sarethi. As he opened the door to the Sarethi Manor, he considered talking to the other Blades members for ideas. He knew one of the members, a Bosmer Nightblade, lived in Ald-Ruhn.

Walking down the Great Hall of the Manor, he quickly spotted the mer he was looking for, talking to another Dunmer in heavy armor. The mer in question looked tired, slightly stooped over with bags under his eyes. As he got closer, Raedyn could see there was red in the whites of his eyes as well.

When Sarethi noticed the newcomer, he asked in a demanding tone, "What do you want?"

As Raedyn got close to the Councilor, he was able to see the visions from the elder mer's mind. There were images of Bolvyn Venim pushing and shoving others to do his bidding, making threats, and dragging away someone from Sarethi that seemed to be important to him.

Bowing deeply, he said, "I'm here to help you, Master Sarethi."

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It had taken some convincing, but Raedyn managed to convince Sarethi that his intentions were true. The two retreated into the mess hall where Sarethi drank what his guest estimated to be more than a healthy amount of wine while Raedyn described his journey up to this point, and why he believed himself to be the Nerevarine. He knew revealing his destiny to Sarethi was risky, but he decided to do this because he needed someone on the inside to advise him, someone who knew the Great Houses and could advise him, as the Nerevarine and not just Hortator.

Finally, when he was done, Sarethi put down his wineglass and just stared at empty space. Several minutes passed in silence, and Raedyn couldn't interpret Sarethi's visions with any certainty. Finally the elder mer spoke, "Your arrival is most fortuitous, serjo. You either calculated this very well, or Azura is truly good at her craft." He poured himself another glass of wine. "I do need help; desperately. Bolvyn Venim is not a mer to be trifled with, something I learned the hard way. Years of fighting Red Mountain has left him…twisted, distorted. He believes the only way to protect Redoran is to control every aspect of it in an iron grip."

He downed the entire glass at once. "In the last ten years, as the Blight has gotten worse, so has Venim himself. Like a fool, I felt that enough was enough, and I protested him, and tried to get the other councilors to agree with me. In retaliation, a fortnight ago, Venim kidnapped my son. He's demanded not only my resignation, but that I resign my entire family line from House Redoran. Since then, he's been threatening the other councilors to side with him on this matter. In Redoran, tradition states that when one councilor is opposed by every member of the rest of the council, he must either submit or agree to an acceptable compromise. Venim will not compromise until I am gone or dead."

"And there's a reason why this won't be resolved simply by rescuing your son?" Readyn asked.

"Yes. Not only would Venim take it as an act of war if I sent one of my retainers, but with his bargaining chip against me gone, he would take more direct action to destroy me."

Raedyn sighed and leaned back in his chair. "A being like that is only digging his own grave. Even without the Moon-and-Star, I can tell the other councilors only follow him out of fear." He let his mind wrap around the situation a little bit, but he kept thinking how great it would be to beat Venim at his own game. Suddenly, the solution came to him. "That's it! We'll use his best weapon against him."

Sarethi, still slightly drunk, looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"He's trying to pit the other councilors against you, but what if we pitted them against him? They're already afraid of him, they just need a little push in the right direction. As Hortator, I can overthrow any order of his, and I can force him to return your son."

As Sarethi thought it over, he seemed to sober up. "That…that just might work. I have enough influence with the other councilors; they'll listen to me. We all agree that Red Mountain is a greater threat than ever, despite the Ghost Fence." He seemed to think it over some more. "But each councilor will see the danger of opposing Venim. We'll have to do something, some kind of open act of defiance to give them the courage to follow."

At that point, Raedyn stood up, and started walking toward the exit to the Manor.

"Where are you going?" Sarethi asked.

Without breaking stride, Raedyn answered. "To save your son."

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It was easy enough to find out where they were hiding Varvur; he merely had to ask a guard where he was, and though they gave no verbal answer other than threats, the visions told him exactly where the younger Sarethi was. The problem was there was a guard in the room where the hiding cell was located. This would be tricky.

After thinking of several options, Raedyn finally settled on one option. Standing at the top of a staircase, he had a clear line of sight toward the tapestry that covered the door leading to Varvur Sarethi's cell. Despite his natural talent with Mysticism, this was going to test his ability with telekinesis.

When the guard's back was toward him, he pointed his hand toward the wall right next to the tapestry to help with his aim and control, and carefully concentrating so as not to overdo it, he forced some of the wood splinter, loudly.

As he had hoped, the guard heard the noise and quickly moved to investigate. When she found the wood broken, she looked closely in confusion, and suddenly her head banged into the wall, knocking her unconscious thanks to a well aimed telekinetic grip.

Moving quickly, Raedyn moved down the stairs, into the short hallway, moved the tapestry and looked at the door. It was obviously locked, but that didn't matter much to him. He gave it a light rap above the knob, and the door flew open, revealing the Sarethi. He looked unhealthily thin, and he wore only pants. He could tell the Dunmer's natural hue was darker, and his eyes were too light a red to be healthy.

"Varvur Sarethi?" Raedyn asked.

The Dunmer's eyes went wide, and he stumbled forward, grabbing onto Raedyn's glass armor in a death grip. "Did my father send you? Am I free?"

"Wait just a second." Raedyn instructed, then wrapped an arm around the slightly shorter Dunmer, and cast a Recall spell, returning them to the Sarethi Manor. When he found the familiar surroundings, Varvur started to weep.

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Raedyn spent the night in the Ald'Skar Inn, while the grateful Counsilor Sarethi promised to speak to the other councilors. The next day, Raedyn arrived in the Redoran Council Hall at midday, when Sarethi told him he would hold a councilor's meeting, to hear shouting. "This is an outrage!"

Raedyn smiled. It looked like he arrived just in time.

"I will _not_ stand for this!" Venim stated.

"You have little choice, Bolvyn Venim." Minor Arobar said. "You're the only one among us who doesn't agree we need a Hortator. By the very traditions you claim to protect, you must yield."

Venim pointed a threatening finger at the councilor. "Do _not_ tell me how to run Redoran!"

"You are not the leader of Redoran." Garisa Llethri stated. "We all rule this House together, equally. That has been the way of the Great Houses since the First Era."

Venim was breathing heavily in anger. "And now you all turn on me. Since when has this House supported treachery and mutiny?"

"Bolvyn, we did not turn on you," Brara Morvayn said, calmly and soothingly, "you turned on us. You lost your honor the day you took hostages. We've supported you up until now because of the great services you've done in the past, and because we shared in your grief, but this has gone on long enough. Aerole is dead, and it's time you let it go. The way you have been running this House is not right. No one has pushing you away, you've pushed us away."

Raedyn stepped forward, his footsteps on the stairway drawing everyone's attention. "The tighter you grasp loose sand," he explained, the words flowing out of him as if by some other force, "the more you push through your fingers. Only a gentle hand can hold any, and even then he cannot hold all the sand on the beach."

Venim glared at him in barely contained rage. "You think quoting Nerevar Indoril can make you any less of an Outlander. You think this land cannot take care of itself."

Raedyn nearly slipped his focus for a moment, knowing he somehow knew what Nerevar once said. "Yield, Venim. You cannot stop what is to come, but I can. When I become Hortator, _when_ I become Hortator, this land will be united against an enemy that has exploited our separation for far too long, an enemy that _needs_ us to be separated. A house cannot be built with one brick, a roof of one tile will break."

Venim looked between him and the other councilors.

"Submit, Bolvyn. It's over." Hlaren Ramoran stated.

After a few moments, Venim said, "I still have rights. I can compromise."

"We will accept no-" Athyn Sarethi started to say before Raedyn interrupted him.

"What do you propose?" He asked. He knew that neither side in this would give, so he had to find the path of least resistance.

"A duel, in Redoran fashion." Venim answered. "In five days, I will be in Vivec. You and I will duel in the Arena, in front of witnesses. If you win, you will be Hortator. If I win, we will continue to fight Red Mountain the way we have been, the way we should."

Raedyn didn't pay heed to Athyn and several other Councilors giving clear signs not to accept. "I accept your terms. Five days it is."

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He had overstrained himself again. His weak muscles felt like lead, and every time he moved pain seared him to the marrow. He stayed as still as he could, staring up at the ceiling of his room in some Maar Gan inn. He had more than enough money to pay for the room for months while he recovered, though he would likely only need a week. Although his hunger for sanguinity was far from satisfied, discipline kept him still while his body slowly recovered. Soon, a priest from the Temple would come and help him in his healing process, for a price no doubt. And that priest would likely either keep all that money for himself, or send it all to the Temple while it kept him dirt poor.

Farens sighed. Nightblades were considered one of the most patient adventurer occupations in Tamriel, but he had his limits.

A gentle knock at the door brought his thoughts back to the current. "Who is it?" He called out.

Falisiel walked in. The High Elf was one of his agents in the outpost settlement of Maar Gan. "I have a message for you." He held up a letter in his hand.

Not moving anymore than his hand, he signaled for the Altmer to drop the letter in his hand. After he was alone once more, Farens opened the letter, expecting a recall order from the Morag Tong. They were likely onto him. He was surprised to find a letter of a very different nature.

Saryoni sent him the message, telling him Otheril was close to becoming Hortator of House Redoran, and would likely try to sway Hlaalu and Telvanni as well. Knowing this, Farens lay even more still. He would not underestimate the Mer like before. He now knew Otheril was good with Mysticism, and could see him with detection spells even when blinded. Using that information, a plan started to form in Farens's mind.

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Raedyn walked down the halls of Curio Manor, his hands behind his back to keep from strangling the Imperial walking and talking with him. Against his better judgment, Raedyn had taken off his armor, and was walking around in his better clothing, only to find an Imperial hand touching him now and again, rubbing his back, shoulders, and even a couple of times rubbed his pectoral and he could've sworn one of those times the man had rubbed his thumb against his nipple. Against his better judgment indeed.

The two had been talking about the other councilors, or at least Raedyn was trying to keep the subject on the other councilors while Crassius Curio tried to change the subject to certain other things, and the young Mer not only found himself becoming increasingly more uncomfortable around the Imperial, but started to feel Hlaalu would be even harder to sway than he thought. It was hard enough to move around the city without attracting the attention of the Ordinators. Soon after arriving in the city, he found that, although the warrant for him was lifted, Ordinators were still after him, and if it weren't for a quick Intervention spell, he would've been caught.

He had managed to find Curio in his manor, but things weren't looking too good. It was still two days until his match with Venim in the Arena. After Raedyn had accepted the duel, Athyn scolded him fiercely. Even though the Redoran had hundreds of years of battle experience on him, he had the element of surprise with his strength and stamina. As long as he played his cards right during their fight, he should be able to win with little trouble.

But his attempts to find ways to sway Hlaalu to favor him was not looking good, from what Curio was saying. Hlaalu was a House of money and business, and other than Curio himself, it looked like the only way to gain the favor of the other Councilors was to pay them off, and the estimated amounts needed were well beyond Raedyn's coin purse.

Suddenly, Crassius's ramblings were cut off as a well dressed Dunmer walked into the room. He looked between Curio and his guests, and said, "Raedyn Otheril?"

He didn't recognize him, and was glad he kept his glass long sword on him. "Yes. Who are you?"

"Ah, good." He pulled out a tape measure and started measuring Raedyn's shoulders and height. "I'm Arreyn Modryn, I work for the Arena Canton. I must say, your fight in two days has brought in a lot of spectators and is the talk of the city."

"Uh, thanks, I guess." Raedyn said, not sure how to take that. "Uh, by the way, what are you doing?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm just taking measurements for your coffin." He said. "The Arena has set the betting odds for your fight at ten to one. They're so confident Lord Venim will win that they have offered ten times the money back for those who bet on you. Honestly, I only took Lord Venim's measurements out of procedure."

Raedyn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can understand procedure, but do they really think only one of us will come out of this fight alive?"

The mer suddenly stopped taking measurements. "Oh, you…don't know, do you? Lord Venim only fights to the death." He quickly took a few more measurements, and promptly left.

"Uh, no. No one bothered to tell me that." Raedyn muttered. "Well, this is just great." Between money grubbing nobles and a destiny with little chance of success, he now has to deal with a fight to the death.

Suddenly, an idea came to him. "Uncle Crassius," he said, using the nickname Curio insisted he use, "I have a question: what kind of executive powers would I have if I were named Hortator of House Hlaalu?"

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Raedyn leaned against the wall, trying hard not to get up and pace the room. Where was he? He had thought about showing up to the fight an hour late, just to aggravate the Redoran, but knew Venim wouldn't be the only one there. He had to appear punctual and honorable in front of the Hlaalu councilors.

Finally, the door leading into the Arena Canton's Waistworks opened and Crassius Curio entered. "Well?" Raedyn asked, trying to keep his impatience in check.

"All present and accounted for." Curio answered with his usual high pitched flair.

Nodding, the Dunmer said, "Good. Our match should be starting soon." Suddenly, a gong was heard resonating through the walls. "That's my cue." He hefted himself from the wall and moved over to the door leading into the Arena, but suddenly found a hand grabbing his arm and pulling him in for a hard kiss.

Raedyn tried _really _hard not to cringe or shudder, let alone haymaker the Imperial. When Crassius finally let go, he gave the Dunmer a wink, saying, "For good luck, sweetie."

This time, he couldn't stop from shuddering, and sarcastically muttered, "Thanks." He quickly moved toward the door, hoping to get his mind on his impending fight, rather on what just happened.

He stepped into the brighter Arena area, loud with the roars of the excited crowds, and there, on the other side, stood Venim, pointing his daedric dai-katana at him. Raedyn pulled out his glass long sword and hefted both it and his glass shield, getting familiar once again with their weight.

Venim stood still, holding his sword in both hands pointed at him, blade towards the ceiling. Raedyn decided to take the fight to him. Starting in a light trot, he moved to just outside the older Mer's sword range, faked to the right once, twice, and then made a more serious move to right before lunging forward, moving in low with his shield above his head, preparing his sword to stab. He expected Venim's sword to come down on him, not his knee to come up hard, hitting his sword arm against his chest hard enough to stop his advance and make him stagger back. With the momentum built from the move, Venim put his kicking leg down, spun around on it, and viciously kicked Raedyn in the face.

Disoriented to the point that he didn't even feel himself hit the floor, it was instinct that made him swing his sword to deflect the follow up attack. With his senses quickly returning to him, Raedyn scooted away onto his elbows to try and get back up, when Venim managed to pull his large sword out of the ground, and swung it at the younger Mer. Due to his enormous strength, Raedyn was able to stop the attack with his sword using only one hand, but was shocked to see the daedric sword cut halfway through his weapon!

Using Telekinesis, Raedyn hit the daedric weapon hard enough to push it out of his sword, but before he could retaliate, Venim came in with a kick, hitting the younger Mer's sword hand with his shin, sending his sword flying, and his head with the foot. The force of the blow caused Raedyn to spin around, and realizing his back was to his opponent, he jumped backwards, slamming his back into Venim's chest.

Suddenly, he saw a daedric blade swung in front of him and pulled in toward his throat. At the last moment, Raedyn managed to lift his gauntlet high enough to block the strike, though the blade cut into his hand slightly through the armor. Venim then reached his arm under Raedyn's and grabbed the blunt side of the blade, and pulled it in. Because Venim's arms were on both sides of him, Raedyn couldn't get out, and he couldn't do much with his shield arm. He grunted in frustration as Venim continued to pull the sword against his gauntlet, slowly cutting through more of the metal and into his hand.

Raedyn looked around, and found his sword nearly outside his Telekinesis range. He reached out with his shield-wielding hand, focusing the Mysticism spell as best he could. The glass long sword rattled slightly, but he lost his focus as Venim's sword cut a little deeper into his hand. He tried the spell once more, and gave everything in him to make the spell work. The sword rattled a little, then a little more. Suddenly, it shot up and flew toward Raedyn so fast, he nearly missed grabbed its pommel. Holding it awkwardly, due to the hand-grab of his shield, he swung the sword behind him, and Venim pulled away to keep from getting injured.

As fast as he could, Raedyn turned around before his opponent could get too far away from him, and punched him in the chest as hard as he could. The ebony armor fractured under the force of the blow, and Venim when flying backwards, skidding fifteen feet across the ground.

Putting the sword back in his right hand, Raedyn swung his sword around a few times experimentally to see how bad the injury was. It was painful enough to where he nearly dropped his sword; the wound limited his range of movement with his wrist. This wasn't good.

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Resisting the urge to cough and hack, Venim forced himself back onto his feet as pain raced through his chest. How was it possible that Otheril was that powerful? He had the strength of a Corpus Beast! Not only that, but he managed to use Telekinesis on his sword from a distance of thirty feet. He must have had a lot of skill with Mysticism to pull something like that off, but it also seemed to be the limit of his range.

He would have to use that to his advantage.

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Raedyn quickly put his guard back up as Venim went on the offensive, swinging his dai-katana. He managed to block or dodge all of the attacks, but he couldn't get in close enough to use his shorter weapon. He found himself being pushed back by the quick attacks. Suddenly, Venim used the force behind his quick swing to spin on his heel, and upon spinning around, he used his feet to power his attack. Raedyn quickly realized the attack would tear through his shield like paper, and he jumped backward, avoiding the attack…

…and slammed his back into the wall of the Arena. Venim must have been anticipating that, as he stopped his attack prematurely, and went into for a lunging stab, his whole bodyweight behind the attack. Raedyn barely managed to raise his shield in front of him, and tried to push the attack to the side, but the blade went right through the glass and steel, and into his shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

Raedyn shouted in pain, and suddenly found Venim's hand on his as he pulled the long sword from his weakened grip. The younger Mer watched helplessly as his sword was thrown to the far side of the Arena, well outside his Telekinesis range. He then saw Venim's hand start to glow with electrical magicka as he prepared to deliver the final blow. In near panic, Raedyn blasted the older Mer with Telekinesis, pulling the dai-katana out along with him. He was then shocked to find he couldn't move his shield arm at all. Panic started to overwhelm him, and then Caius's words drifted into his mind, "Deception is one of the best ways of winning when you're outnumbered or out classed."

With his mind calm, he formulated a plan.

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Venim quickly got back on his feet, and watched the Outlander look at him with scared eyes, his left arm hanging limply. Smiling, he started walking toward his prey, slowly. He enjoyed the look of fear passing through the Outlander's face. No one came into his House and mocked him.

The younger Mer then reached for a dagger strapped to his thigh, his hand fumbling with the grip, and threw it. He barely had to move to dodge it. He knew from the speed it was traveling that it would easily end up outside Otheril's spell range. He raised his sword, ready to decapitate the panicking Mer.

Suddenly, Otheril lunged with a yell, grabbing his sword wielding arm with his good hand and trying to tackle him. Using his superior grappling skills, Venim managed to maneuver to the point where he fell on top of Otheril, and while he was one top, he grabbed the younger Mer's throat with his good hand. It was checkmate. As it was, Otheril would be chocked to death, but if he gave up his one good hand to go for the hand around his throat, he would be killed by the sword.

The Outlander underneath him started to squirm around in panic, when white magicka started to pour out of him, and it lasted for a second without anything happening, but suddenly, Otheril disappeared. Venim nearly cut off his own thumb when he found the hand holding him up gone.

He quickly got back on his feet, and looked around. Otheril was gone. He probably used an Intervention spell. It was weird, though, that the magicka coming from his body lasted longer than it should have.

Suddenly, a burst of magicka exploded in front of him, and Otheril lunged out of it, plunging a daedric dagger into his chest. In that moment, Venim realized what had happened. Otheril was pretending to panic, throwing his last weapon at him to look like he was defenseless, and while he was pinned down, he used a Mark spell right before using intervention, and conjured a dagger before Recalling himself back to get the surprise attack on him.

As blood started to seep between his lips, and his body started to go cold, Venim grunted, "Long live…House…Redoran."

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"Long live…House…Redoran."

"And it will." Raedyn promised as Venim went limp and fell to the ground, the daedric dagger in his chest starting to dissolve. Where the crowds had been roaring in excitement, now the Arena was as silent as a graveyard. With the only sound in the room being his armor clinking, Raedyn walked over, cradling his wounded arm, and sheathed his Black Hand's Dagger and his Glass long sword.

Taking the nearest door into the Waistworks, Raedyn made his way up toward the top of the Arena. He was met halfway there by Athyn Sarethi. "You need the healers to look at you!"

He gave Sarethi a dismissive wave of his good hand. He needed to get this over, and getting healed might take too long. As he entered the upper part of the Arena, he saw the crowd of Hlaalu councilors, all of whom he had Curio send invitations to so they could bet on his match, yelling at the Arena bookie. He could only imagine the fortune they just lost betting on Venim.

"Excuse me." He called out. "May I have your attention?" The councilors turned and saw him there. Suddenly, Crassius Curio ran toward him with arms outstretched, saying something about 'love conquering all', but before he could be embraced, Raedyn lifted his hand and pressed it against the weird Imperials face, keeping him at arm's length while saying, "I'll make this quick, councilors. I'm sure all of you lost a lot of money when I won that match. What if I were to say that I could get you all your money back if, say, you all agreed to make me Hortator of House Hlaalu?"

End of Chapter Thirteen.

Author's Notes: I apologize for the millionth time for having to make y'all wait for the millionth time, and now I'll explain, also for the millionth time, why this one was late as well. Besides nearly two months of the most stubborn case of writers block I've ever had (see, it wasn't laziness this time) I finally have something akin to a job (I'm not even part-time, I'm on call) at a brewery. Besides that, because my sister's boyfriend seems to go out of his way to inconvenience her, we're often tasked with taking care of my nephew. I also would have had this chapter up over the weekend if only we didn't go up to Seattle for Mother's Day; not only on Mother's Day, but it was the last day of the Roman Arts Exhibit at the Seattle Arts Museum, and there was a Mariners game, and a Seahawks game, and it was Breast Cancer Awareness day at both games (please contribute to breast cancer research, btw), as well as two HUGE cruise liners at the docks just picking people up right then, finding a parking spot was (cue: drum-roll for understatement of the century) a total bitch.

Speaking of which, I've been Pepsi free (read: caffeine free) for two and a half weeks now. Let me tell you, caffeine withdrawal headaches are an even bigger bitch. They go away though. Eventually.

Okay, one last note to this exceedingly long A/N, in the next chapter, Raedyn and Farens will have their final showdown.


	14. Happy Two Year Anniversary CotN

Chapter Fourteen: Happy Two Year Anniversary, CotN

**Chapter Fourteen: Happy Two Year Anniversary, CotN!**

Raedyn knew he needed to be careful with the Telvanni, that was why he was visiting Master Aryon first, the apparent black sheep of the House. He knew them to be a highly insular, nepotistic, and xenophobic group, on top of generally being a law unto themselves. He learned that quickly during his early days in Vvardenfell, when he did errands for the Mages Guild and other freelance jobs.

Raedyn stopped at that thought, halfway between Vos and Tel Vos, and tried to remember those days. He was so bitter then, but now he realized how simple things were. It seemed so long ago; it felt like a century had passed since then rather than a few months. He tried to remember how he had been, who he had been, but it was like remembering someone else…

…someone he didn't like. It was ironic, he realized, how scared of everything he was back then; the world, the prison, others, himself, and yet here he was with every reason to be afraid, and yet he didn't…he _wouldn't_ let it deter him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he really didn't like what he used to be.

Sighing, he shook off that line of thought, knowing the brooding wouldn't get him anywhere. He had a task to complete, and he couldn't afford any distractions.

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Two hours later, using what few fingers he could spare, Raedyn managed to open the door to Master Aryon's quarters while still holding his load. Once inside, he found the Telvanni Councilor talking with an Imperial, about finances from what he heard of the conversation. The two of them turned their heads and saw him. Aryon looked young for a Councilor, looking no more than thirty years older than Raedyn.

"Can I help you?" The Dunmer asked.

Raedyn dumped the pile of Dwemer Centurion parts he was carrying. "Yes, I'd like you to put a sign at the tower entrance, explaining that you cannot enter your chambers through the castle. Do you know how many of these," he pointed to the pile now littering the chambers, "I went through before I realized this room was only accessible through levitation?"

"I'm sure my guards will inform me." Aryon said. "Now that we have that out of the way, why have you come to see me?"

Raedyn channeled magicka to his ring, and was able to read parts of Aryon's thoughts. He was cunning, but open. He wasn't humble, there was arrogance in there, and he regarded the newcomer with suspicion, but they were healthy amounts, he wasn't blinded by his own prejudice. "I seek your help in becoming Hortator of House Telvanni."

Instead of pity or anger, through the Moon-and-Star he felt amusement in Aryon. "And why should I help you with this task, my Outlander friend?"

Raedyn held up his hand to clearly display One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star. "Because I am Nerevar Indoril reincarnated."

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Farens Dren walked into Gothren's chamber of Tel Aruhn, finding the Councilor flanked on each side by Dremora while reading a book. He approached Gothren, and when one of the Dremora moved to bar his path, he casually used a powerful demoralize spell on the Daedra to get it out of the way. A moment later, with the Dremora pressing its back against the wall in fear, Farens was close enough to the Councilor that he drew his attention. He looked at the black robed Dunmer, then to his cowering guard, then back and said, "May I ask why you saw fit to curse my personal guard?"

"I'm looking for someone." Farens answered simply. "Raedyn Otheril."

Gothren gave a harrumph, and then returned to his book.

"You can tell me willingly," the Morag Tong agent said, lifting his hand as it glowed with the green light of Illusion magic, "or I can make you tell me."

The Councilor, rather than look intimidated or defensive, looked insulted. He closed his book and turned so his whole body was facing Farens to show he wasn't scared of him. "An Outlander by that name came by early this morning, asking to be named Hortator. He spoke of the danger of Red Mountain and that the Tribunal could no longer protect us. He claimed he already had the support of Councilor Aryon."

"And what did you do?" Farens demanded in a calm voice.

"Aryon is nothing to me, or anyone else." Gothren said, defiantly. "He's a rebel and a blight upon our great House. His vote carries no weight among us _real_ Telvanni. Upstarts like Otheril are only looking for something to occupy their attention. I told him I needed more time to think the matter through. I'll tell him the same thing every time he comes back, _if_ he comes back, and eventually he'll get bored and move on."

_You're an idiot and a fool for assuming so much of him._ Farens thought. _A mer like that doesn't give up so easily. He'll be back, either for you vote or your life, but he'll be back._ "Do you mind if I stay here for a few days to see if he returns?"

Gothren gave another harrumph, and returned to his book. "As long as you leave me alone and don't raid my pantry or my beds, do as you will."

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Raedyn thought he was off to a bad start with Gothren, but at least he did better with the next two advisors. Master Neloth seemed to only give him the vote so Raedyn would leave, but that was good enough for him, yet Mistress Dratha was another story. He thought it was odd moving through her tower and seeing nothing but women, until he met the she-mer herself and saw images in her mind, via the Moon-and-Star, that were often graphic depictions of he-mers beating down the women of the race with their exaggerated phalluses, or something else to that extent.

It was only through throwing himself at her feet and nearly an hour of begging and explaining why women were the stronger sex and naturally better leaders that she finally gave him her vote, though he suspected it was mostly just a thanks for the flattery. A vote was still a vote, he told himself.

The next Councilor on the list was Mistress Therana of Tel Branora. He remembered Aryon explaining that she was the oldest of the Council, and the one he should take the most caution with. After making a few wrong turns, he eventually found the ancient Dunmer in a room with a few large crystals and a Khajiit wearing nothing but a loincloth and a magicka draining slave bracelet.

As he entered the room, he bowed deeply and said, "Mistress Therana, I am Raedyn Otheril."

"Hmm, oh, you must be the stripper." She said. "I thought I called you thirty years ago, but better late then never, so my granddaughter would say had she not been born. You're a little skinny, but…did you cut off all your muscles and stuff them in your willy-willy-ding-dong?" She then brought her hand to her mouth to cover a small smile as a blush consumed her face, then she started jumping up and down while clapping in excitement.

Suddenly realizing what he was up against, for the first time since he heard about the fallen Chimer, he wished Dagoth Ur was in front of him right then so he didn't have to deal with this wrinkled loony. "Mistress," he said as calmly as he could manage once he got his voice back, "I am sorry, but I am not a stripper, I have come here to discuss with you a matter of the utmost import-"

"Have you met fluffy?" She blurted.

Raedyn was caught off guard. "What, I mean: I beg your pardon?"

"Fluffy, my kitty here." She walked over to the Khajiit and wrapped her arms, more loose skin then flesh and bone, around his head. "Yes, you're a good little kitten, aren't you little girl?" She asked before taking one hand from around the obviously male Khajiit's neck and scratched under his jaw. The Khajiit looked and Raedyn and mouthed the words, "Save me!"

Unsure what to do, Raedyn hesitated and didn't notice the new arrival until she spoke, "Mistress," a female Dunmer in maid's clothing, holding a silver tray with a teapot and cups on it said, "I have your tea."

"What?" Therana asked, and then looked furious. "Who are you? You're trying to poison me aren't you?! Die!" She then fired a spell at the girl.

Raedyn jumped back in fright, and the girl recoiled from the spell, falling back several feet and looking limp, but strangely looked intact. It took him a moment to realize that spell looked like a Shield spell. A moment later, two other maids came in, and started carrying the downed girl with them out of the room. "What would you like us to do with her, Mistress?" One of them asked before they left.

"Bury her, burn her, revive her and kill her again a thousand times!" Therana screamed.

The two maids nodded. "As you wish, Mistress." Then the two were gone.

Raedyn realized he was in WAY over his head. He might as well get this over with as soon as he could. "Mistress Therana, I've come to talk about you giving me your vote for-"

"Vote? Vote!" She called out. "I love that game!" She disengaged herself from the Khajiit, much to the feline's relief, until she pulled a ball of string out of a nearby shelf. It was then that Raedyn realized that 'vote' sounded very similar to the mer word for string. He watched as the slave, looking angry and thoroughly humiliated, slowly got onto his back and lightly batted at the string dangling over his head.

The Glass armored Dunmer slowly inched toward the hallway, and craned his neck back to see where the maids went to, and saw the two setting the third to the ground, and watched them help her back onto her feet, apparently unharmed. He decided to not look into the matter any further, not really wanting to know any answers to what happened in this loony bin, before turning his attention back to Therana. He decided to let her have her fun, and wait until she got bored before attempting to continue with the scraps resembling a conversation they were having.

Fifteen minutes later, he gave up and said, "Mistress Therana, may I speak with you?"

The older Dunmer dropped the string ball in surprise, and apparently completely forgetting about the Khajiit. "Who, who, who are you?" She asked, sounding scared out of her mind.

"I'm Raedyn Otheril." He said in a hushed, unthreatening voice. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Don't hurt me!" She screamed, and didn't notice a vein pop out on Raedyn's forehead. "I'm sorry I was wandering on my own. Please don't rape me, I'm too young!" She then backed into a wall and said, "I should have listened to my mother!" She turned around and started crying loudly while banging her fist against the wall, "I didn't listen to mommy! She's going to be so angry when I get back. I'M SO STUPID!" She hit the wall a few more times, then charged a spell into her hand, and hit the wall with it, blowing a five foot wide hole through it, and the wall past it, and the wall past that until Raedyn could see the sky outside the tower. The Tevanni councilor acted as if the event didn't even happen, and continued weeping.

The younger mer was starting to become really scared himself, when the maid Therana 'killed' earlier arrived, carrying another tea set. "Mistress," she said, "here is your tea."

All fear was gone from Therana's face as she walked over and took the tray from her, not seeming to notice the young girl should be dead. Raedyn thought she must have just forgotten about it before she said, "And what did you do to that little assassin bitch earlier in the maid's outfit?"

"We cut her up and fed her parts to scamps and threw her head in the lava of the Planes of Oblivion." She answered, calmly, almost sounding rehearsed.

"Good." Therana said before dismissing her with a wave of her hand.

Raedyn decided to try another tactic. "Mistress, how about we play a game? It's called, 'I proclaim you Tevanni Hortator'. You go first."

She dropped her teacup, spilling some tea on her dress before the cup shattered on the ground, far outside her range of attention, and started jumping and clapping. "I love that game! I've never heard of it and I don't think I've tried it, but I love it, all the same!"

Right then, one of the maids walked in and started cleaning up the mess of ceramic and tea. Raedyn decided not to do anything about her knowing this might be his only chance. "Okay, the first thing we do is you have to proclaim me Hortator."

Therana looked at him in confusion and said, "Hey, no fair! You can't change the rules like that!"

He held in a groan. "Please, Mistress, indulge me this once."

Therana then straightened, her ancient, wrinkled face going somber, and she looked very sane at that moment. She raised one hand, and said, "In my power and authority, granted to me by the Tribunal and the Councilors of House Telvanni of Morrowind, I hereby proclaim you, Raedyn Otheril," she then lowered her hand to point straight at him, "to be the spider!"

Raedyn nearly lost his balance. He had forgotten that 'Hortator' also sounded similar to the elvish word for 'spider'. "Uh, Mistress, you're supposed to say 'Hortator', not 'spider', remember?"

Therana kept pointing at him, not moving a muscle except her face which looked confused, her eyes shifting upward as if she was thinking. Suddenly, she put her thumbs in her ears, extended her fingers, and gave him the raspberry. "Fine," She said afterward, "have it your way. You're the Hortator, there!" She turned around, and sat in a chair with her back to him, crossing her armed in a very childish pouting gesture.

The maid stood up then and whispered in his ear, "I can take it from here, we're the ones who run things for her, so don't worry. And by the way, congratulations."

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The next day, Raedyn climbed the tubes and stairs of Tel Aruhn, expecting to take yet another life. He had talked with Aryon the night before, returning to Tel Vos soon after the…encounter…with Mistress Therana, and explained that he was just waiting on Gothren's vote. He wasn't pleased to learn that the last Telvanni Councilor was very unlikely to ever decide, as that was his modus operandi: lead all votes and Council decisions into indecision until he gets his way. Aryon described that mer as having the patience of a rock, and that the only way to win here was to kill him. He also explained that it was this particular habit of Gothren's that lead the Councilor to always be surrounded by powerful Daedra, as the other Telvanni Councilors would love to kill him.

Raedyn was rather surprised when the young Councilor admitted that he stood to gain from Gothren's death. Through the ring, Raedyn saw that, at least from Aryon's perspective, the gain in power wasn't the biggest reason he wanted the Tel Aruhn leader dead. At least that was _some _reassurance.

As he ascended Tel Aruhn, he tried to, once again, find that calmness he experienced in Ilunibi. He would hold off killing the mer as a last resort, but he would do what was necessary. He could not weigh the life of one against the lives of thousands, possibly millions at stake. He didn't know the extent of Dagoth's ambitions, whether he wanted to rule Vvardenfell, Morrowind, all of Tamriel, or destroy them all, but he wouldn't allow him to win, even if it meant a few sacrifices. He knew that, despite all his strength and determination, he couldn't save everyone. _If you try to save everyone, you'll end up saving no one._

Raedyn shook his head. Those strangely familiar thoughts once again that felt like memories couldn't be good for him. He thought they must have been messing with his head because there were several times in his ascent where he could have sworn he was being watched.

When he reached Gothren's chambers, he saw the councilor behind his desk looking over scrolls, accompanied by the two Dremora Lords from before. The older mer looked up and saw Raedyn standing there. "I'm sorry, but I haven't decided yet. If it's nothing important, would you please leave me alone so I can ponder this? This is a very delicate proposition you have proposed."

Raedyn stepped up to the desk so he was looking down at the Councilor's face. "Time is up. The time to act draws closer with each breath you use to procrastinate. What is your answer?"

Gothren set down his quill, and leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. He glared at the Dunmer for several seconds, then looked toward his two bodyguards in turn, and gave each a nod. The moment the two drew their weapons, one with a daedric battle ax, the other with a claymore, Raedyn jumped back, and immediately employed a telekinesis spell before his feet even touched the ground. The claymore swung up and decapitated the ax wielding Dremora, throwing its owner off balance. In that moment, Raedyn came back in and stabbed the remaining daedra with his sword. Both Dremora Lords soon turned to dust.

In surprise, Gothren brought his hand back to charge a spell. Raedyn acted quickly and grabbed the edge of the desk separating them, and threw it up at the Councilor, pinning him to the wall before he could let the spell fly. Without giving him a moment to recover, the younger Dunmer stabbed Gothren through the desk. Blood slowly dripping out his mouth, the dying mer glared at Raedyn with hatred as the life slowly left him. After a few seconds, Gothren's head went limp, and the sword was pulled out of him.

Leaving the Councilor's body slumped over the desk that previously held him against the wall, Raedyn cleaned off his sword and started to retrace his steps. As he descended, he felt his breath evening out, his heart beat slowing. Another death on his hands, and he knew this was getting easier. A part of him said it shouldn't get easier over time.

As he walked into a foyer, he pulled the Moon-and-Star out of his pocket. He didn't want to put it on during the fight. He didn't want to experience the emotions and thoughts of someone as they died. He decided that, now that the fight was over, he should put it back on. It was the only thing that saved his life.

The moment it surrounded his finger, he felt a powerful bloodlust, and instinctually ducked and rolled a moment before he heard the familiar _whoosh_ of a blade cutting air. Quickly getting back onto his feet, he turned around, pulled out his sword, and raised his shield in the direction he heard the attack come from.

Nothing but empty halls.

_He's using some kind of concealment spell._ Raedyn realized, and quickly used a powerful detection spell, but was shocked to find his vision swimming in the purple haze of life. The entire tower was a living organism, making it impossible to discern one life from another.

Suddenly something hit his armored wrist hard, and he felt a snap and a sharp pain before he dropped his sword. Before the weapon could touch the ground, it was thrown overhead through the open ceiling onto the next floor. In that moment, Raedyn could tell where the attacker was, and rammed him with his shield, feeling the impact of collision. An instant later, he saw the attacker as his Invisibility spell broke. He didn't need to see the Dunmer's face to recognize him, those dark robes were enough.

It was the assassin from Kogoruhn.

"You!" Raedyn stated, surprised. As soon as a nimble assassin got back on his feet, he immediately used another Invisibility spell, and Raedyn grit his teeth as his Detection spell still didn't avail him.

"Yes, me." He heard the Dunmer voice say. "Farens Dren. Remember that name so your ghost will never rest easy." Raedyn felt a barely palpable rush of emotion, and jumped back, an invisible blade lightly scraping across his armor. He raised his shield in front of him, backing up to a wall to limit the assassin's options.

This wasn't just a job for Dren, he knew; he could feel through the Moon-and-Star that anger and rage was driving the assassin's blade. "Why do you want to kill?"

"You killed Ra'Zhan." Dren said. "And you're with those cultists. A creature like you will only bring pain and death. What more reason do I need?"

"Not all Nerevarine Cults are like the one that destroyed Vazon'Ruhn!" As soon as he said that, he felt an incredible rush of anger, and Farens Dren became visible for a brief moment to use a lightning spell on him. Raedyn was thrown back from the force of the spell, every nerve in his body on fire. He laid on the ground for a few seconds, paralyzed from the pain, small wisps of smoke escaping from his armor, before forcing himself back onto his feet.

"How dare you!" Dren nearly shouted. "You're too foul to kill with a noble weapon like a sword; I should kill you with a knife and _feel_ your death!"

Raedyn grunted in frustration; there was no way to reason with him! He felt the Black Hand's Dagger at his hip, thinking, _yeah, you almost _did_ kill me with a knife_. Suddenly, he knew how he could beat this assassin. It was risky, but it might work.

Distracted by this idea, he was too slow to react when something hit his shield, forcing it to the side, and a blade cut into his face.

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He screamed in pain, falling to his knees. Farens reveled in the feeling of blade cutting flesh. He wanted Otheril to suffer, so he kept the cut from being fatal, only deep enough to cause severe bleeding. Now, the Dunmer had a wound from halfway up his forehead, down between his eyes, to almost the corner of his mouth. Farens flicked his sword to throw the tainted blood off of it.

Suddenly, Otheril grabbed something off his belt, and with his broken right wrist, clumsily swiped the daedric dagger in front of him. Farens saw the motion coming easily, and jumped back out of range. After a few wild thrusts, Otheril threw the dagger in frustration, hoping to hit him. It wasn't even close.

Stealing one glance at the dagger, Farens saw it was enchanted, and realized it was _his _dagger. With a smile on his face, he walked over and picked it up. "I suppose I should thank you for returning this." He said. "I guess I'll kill you with a knife after all."

Otheril managed to move his shield onto his bad arm, and half blinded by the blood pouring profusely out of his eyes, swung both his shield and left arm out, hoping to catch his attacker. Farens decided to move to Otheril's left flank, and wait until Otheril threw a left hook before going in for the attack. He considered puncturing his lung, making him slowly drown in his own blood while giving him more cuts to increase the pain.

"So pathetic." Farens taunted. "I'm right here and your precious Detect Life spells are useless, thanks to Telvanni architecture." Right then, Raedyn threw a wild left hook, and Farens took the chance, lunging in.

Suddenly, Otheril stepped away from Dren, the dagger coming up short, and before he could pull it back, the Glass clad Dunmer grabbed the Faren's arm in an iron grip!

"What?!" Farens shouted.

"Detect…Enchantment." The wounded Dunmer croaked, still mostly blinded by blood.

Right then, Farens realized he had walked right into his trap! Otheril _wanted_ him to pick up the dagger, the only thing he could see when invisible, and attack him with it.

As soon as he realized this, Otheril swung Farens into the wall with bone crushing force. There was only a moment of pain before blissful oblivion overtook him.

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His first sensation was that of pain. He opened his eyes, wincing at the sudden light. He tried to lift his hand to shield his eyes, but the sudden pain of the movement slowed the action. As his eyes slowly began to focus, Farens asked aloud, "How am I alive?"

"This is a Telvanni Tower," a familiar voice said, "even the stewards are good at Restoration."

Farens didn't feel anything. Not anger, aggression, or disappointment; he just felt empty, like a blank slate. "Why do I still hurt?"

"I asked them not to completely heal you." Otheril answered. "I don't fancy another fight with you."

"Why did you save me?" With this, Farens felt something: confusion, and even a little shame. He had tried to kill Otheril, twice nearly succeeding, even hated him fiercely, and here he was taking pity on him.

"I won't let you die so long as I have my reason to fight."

Farens turned his head and saw Otheril kneeling a short distance from him, balancing on the balls of his feet. He had a gauze strip on the wound that nearly split his face in two. "What are you talking about?" He asked, tiredly. He was in no mood for riddles.

"There are things very wrong with Morrowind. You are a prime example. You're just one victim, a reminder that things cannot continue as they are. I don't want there to be anymore victims, I don't want anymore to go through what you and I went through."

Farens blinked in confusion. "What we…went through?"

"You had it worse than me, but I'm more capable than you in many ways. It's the duty, the obligation of those who 'have' to give to the 'have not's. I'm going to stop what happened to you, and worse, from happening again. That is my destiny, my onus."

He stood up then, and started walking away, leaving Farens laying there on the floor. Before he could leave his sight, Otheril stopped and said, "I hope one day, I can be as strong as you."

Surprisingly, those words felt like a hammer blow to Farens. "As strong as me? The hell are you talking about?"

"For the last twenty years, I wallowed in my own loneliness and self pity. You, on the other hand, did something about your pain. You fought for justice in your own way. You said it yourself that you thought I was a threat that had to be eliminated. Whereas I would do nothing, you chose to fight for others, for the justice that had to be dealt." With that, he turned and walked away.

For some reason, those words hurt him deeply, and left him angry. Why was he angry? Why did it hurt to hear those words? They were the same words he told himself ever since he took the path of the Nightblade. He fought to stop more tragedies, to bring the justice that no one else would deal.

Did he? Did he really fight for justice, he wondered. He wanted to say he did, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he just wanted to kill, that he was just looking for excuses. He never cared about justice, just his own self pity.

_Raedyn Otheril,_ He thought bitterly, _we're not that different, you and I._

End of Chapter Fourteen.

Author's Notes: Geez, that was a long wait. I'll get into that later. I noted that some people thought the scenes between Raedyn and Crassius Curio were funny, though honestly, I didn't mean for them to be, it's just what I thought would naturally happen between those two. However, with Mistress Therana, I _was_ trying to be funny, though I tried to keep it all in character. I'm considering doing a side story where, after Raedyn becomes the Nerevarine, he is forced to have a state visit dinner with her and her equally eccentric family. If you liked the humor in this chapter, let me know if you think it's a good idea.

Now, onto why this chapter is so late. First off, my grandfather died, so that naturally lead to a grieving period, a letting-the-rest-of-the-family-know period, a funeral arrangements period, a planning-the-trip-to-the-funeral period, going to the funeral, visiting with family there, the funeral itself, short grieving period afterward, and coming home. Then I found out my other grandpa has bone cancer, so we naturally had to go see him once again. Then I got the worst cold _of my LIFE!_ Two and a half weeks long, and it left me with bronchitis and laryngitis, which I'm still suffering from. And on top of all that, as soon as I got to the Raedyn-Farens conversation at the end of the chapter, I got writers block, stemming from fear that I would make it too cheesy or not any good at all. Stupid anxieties.

This is definitely the worst summer of my life. At least it wasn't a scorcher here in Western Washington, that's a plus.


	15. F33r t3h L8 upd4t3!

A/N: free cookie to whoever figures out what the chapter title translates as.

**Chapter Fifteen: F33r t3h L8 upd4t3**

Raedyn was surprised that he was admitted into Sul-Matuul's yurt so quickly this time. As he entered, he saw Nibani Maesa sitting on a bench, with the Urshilaku Ashkhan looking at various items on a table; trinkets, knives, various ornaments made from bones. After a moment, he turned and looked at Raedyn.

"How goes your quest, Otheril?" He asked.

"I have been named Hortator by Hlaalu, Telvanni, and Redoran." He explained. "Now that I have three of the Great Houses on my side, it doesn't matter what House Indoril or House Dres say, they have to support me as well. I am officially Hortator of Morrowind."

"That is good. You will need great standing in the eyes of the peoples of Vvardenfell, but you are just another Outlander in the eyes of the Resdayni." Maesa explained.

Raedyn nodded. "As I am, I can't conquer Red Mountain on my own. I will need the financing and military might of the Great Houses, the experience and knowledge of the Ashlanders, and the help of the Tribunal."

Upon the last statement, Raedyn witnessed a flicker of surprise show on the usually stoic faces of the Ashkhan and Wise Woman. "Why would you seek the Tribunal's help, Otheril?" Sul-Matuul asked.

"Dagoth Ur's power is the power of the Heart of Lorkhan." Raedyn explained. "If what the Dissident Priests told us is true, no one would know that power better than the Tribunal. I may very well not be able to kill Dagoth Ur without severing his tie to the Heart. Besides which," he pulled a letter from his carrying case, "I got this note delivered to me via Master Aryon." Knowing that the Ashlanders were illiterate, he read it to them.

_To Raedyn Otheril and no other,_

_We in the Temple and the Tribunal know of your desire to become Hortator and Nerevarine. If you succeed in swaying the Great Houses and the four Ashlander Tribes, Lord Vivec will wish to meet with you to discuss your destiny, and how he and the other Tribunals may assist._

_Speak with me once you have concluded your business with the Ashlanders and Great Houses. You will find me in the High Fane._

_Lord Tholer Saryoni, Archpriest of the High Fane._

When he finished, folded the letter up and put it back in his case, he watched the two Urshilaku leaders mull over the letter. He resisted the urge to scratch at the scab on his face, knowing it would make the forming scar even worse. The healers said they did all they could, but they wouldn't be able to fully eliminate it.

"Did it not cross your mind that this could be a trap?" Sul-Matuul inquired.

"They killed Nerevar for their own power." Maesa concurred. "There is little doubt they would kill you to keep their power."

"If they kill me now as Hortator, then at best they create tension between the Temple and the Great Houses, if not an outright rift. Also, the people will take notice, and start to question the Temple even more. And if I follow their directions and go after I'm declared Nerevarine by the Four Tribes, they will be inciting a war between the Temple and the Ashlanders. No matter what they do, they will compromise their power if they try to kill me. Besides, I need their help, so I have to work on a little faith. If there is any agenda to be had with this meeting, it's to try to bargain with me to support the Temple after I defeat Dagoth Ur."

Sul-Matuul sighed, exasperated. "It's your choice, as Nerevarine, but I urge you to take caution. They betrayed Nerevar, Vivec's mentor, Sotha Sil's friend, and Almalexia's husband. They betrayed Resdayn to the Empire. They betrayed their ancestors and Daedra patrons by renouncing the only true faith! Whether it helps or hurts them, killing you is part of their nature, and always will be."

"There's more." Raedyn said. "They also sent me this." He pulled out a folded piece of paper, large than the letter. "This is a poster that's been sent to all the outposts on Vvardenfell and every port and fishing village on the mainland. It's a wanted poster." He showed them a drawing that looked like his face. "It details my description, down to my Cyrodiilic accent, my sword and armor, and it says I'm an imperial spy. I was hoping you might be able to help me change my appearance."

"I can have the seamstress make you Netch leathers, and I can cut your hair and shave your beard." Nibani Maesa said after a moment. "Between that and the scar, you should be unrecognizable. My Lord Ashkhan, can you give him a new sword?" She asked Sul-Matuul.

"Yes." He answered. "We can hold your equipment here while you move about the Ashlander tribes."

"Maesa, I will need your knowledge of the other Tribes." Raedyn commanded. "And Matuul, it would help my credibility if Urshilaku declared me Nerevarine first. What would happen once you do?"

"We would send our scouts and traders to the camps and cities of Resdayn, raising a clamor to your name, declaring you Nerevar-Reborn; that it would be a sign of the end of the Tribunal and Imperial rule, that the old ways were to be resurrected."

Raedyn held in a sigh. "Try to hold back the notion that I will renounce the Empire and the Temple, I don't want them trying to kill me at every turn, not now. I need allies, not enemies."

Sul-Matuul gave him an unapologetic glare. "This is our time to rise, Otheril, the time to take back what's ours by right. Urshilaku, or the other Ashlanders for that matter, will not play at being friends to Imperials or Tribunals!"

"This is an order from your Nerevarine!" Raedyn shot back, temper and impatience flaring. "Azura, your patron, entrusted this task to me, to do what you can't. You don't have to play at being their allies, just mine." He stopped there, to let the words sink in. He fixed the Ashkhan with a commanding glare, and a part of him noticed how much he had changed, now taking on the role of commanding others. _Use whatever methods to get others to follow you, then lead by example,_ a part of him recalled. He shook that memory before continuing. "Gather your scouts and traders, then set them about. Maesa, you and I will discuss the Wise Women and Ashkhans of the other camps."

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Three days later, allowing the Urshilaku runners to spread the word about him, Raedyn arrived at the Zainab camp in the mid-Grazelands. As expected, he was met with fearful and distrusting glares from the inhabitants. Not wishing to waste time and possibly alienate the Zainabi, he singled out the Ashkhan's yurt and made his way toward it. He knew from his discussions with Maesa that Ashkhan Kaushad was a materialistic and greedy leader. He knew just how to persuade him.

Raedyn stuck his head through the yurt flap, looking straight at the ground, as was the Ashlander's polite version of knocking. Nearly a full minute passed before an annoyed voice said, with reluctance, "Enter." As Raedyn did, he saw the Zainab leader sitting at the small table adorning the room.

"Lord Ashkhan Kaushad, I presume?"

"You presume correct, now what do you want?" He asked, impatiently.

Raedyn bowed deeply, and said, "I come seeking guidance and assistance."

The Zainab leader reacted exactly how he expected he would. "And why should I grant either of those to you?"

He didn't need the Moon-and-Star to lead this one around by the nose. "Because I bring the best of intentions." He reached into his satchel and retrieved a coin purse. "As proof of my good intentions, I gift to you five thousand drakes."

He could almost hear the Zainab leader's eyes widening. After a moment, Kaushad said, "Good intentions are horrible things to waste." He motioned to a sitting futon around the currently extinguished fire pit. "What do you seek my wisdom for, Outlander?"

As he was sitting down, Raedyn focused on the Moon-and-Star ring to gaze into the mer's perception. After introductions were made, some small talk ensued. Raedyn paid close attention to Kaushad's perception of the Imperials, the Temple, and the other camps. He obviously didn't like Urshilaku sending their 'messiah' to visit him. When he determined that a silver tongue wasn't going to work on him, Raedyn came flat out and asked, "What do I have to do to prove myself as Nerevar's reincarnation?"

"How am I supposed to believe, for an instant, that an Outlander with an indistinct ring could possibly be the Nerevarine of Urshilaku superstition?"

Raedyn pulled the Moon-and-Star off his finger and offered it to the Ashkhan. "If you don't believe me, try the ring yourself and prove it a fraud." He had to stop himself from smirking at the fact that the Ashkhan was slightly leaning away from the dangerous artifact. _Coward._

"You obviously know little of our customs if you offer to let me wear jewelry rightfully belonging to you." Kaushad said after a long enough period of time to take away any credit his excuse might have had.

Slipping the ring back on, Raedyn said, "So you might not believe my claims, but is there anything I can do to prove my strength? Something no one else is willing to do?"

Kaushad's whole visage shifted to one Raedyn suspected he used for diplomacy, as he put his hand to his chin in contemplation. "There is a vampire nearby, in the Nerano Ancestral Tomb. Obviously, we can't allow such a creature to desecrate our ancestors, but my finest warriors are too cowardly to go anywhere near the thing." Even without the Moon-and-Star, Raedyn was certain that that meant, '_I'm_ too cowardly to go anywhere near the thing', since Ashkhan's were required to lead their warriors in purges. "If you can destroy the abomination, we'll continue this discussion."

Raedyn stood up, and bowed as deeply as before. "I shall get on it at once." As he left the yurt, he heard Kaushad mumbling 'at least he gave me a gift _before_ he died'.

0000000000

An hour later, with a sack slung over one shoulder, Raedyn entered the Zainab Ashkhan's yurt and casually announced, "That's one less vampire in the world."

Kaushad spun around in surprise. "What? You…you're back?"

"Very astute perception, your lordship." The Outlander said, again with his casual tone, before lifting up his hand, presenting the two elongated human fangs. "I defeated the vampire. Now, where did we leave off?"

The Ashkhan gaped, his mouth moving very much like a slaughterfish out of water. A few moments later, he regained his composure, and said, "I hope you understand, but I can't just assume those fangs belonged to the vampire just off of trust. It's terribly difficult to tell one fang from another, even to a trained eye."

Raedyn had met a Buoyant Armiger on his way back, and when the mer noticed the two fangs, not only did he immediately identify them, at a glance, as vampire fangs, but ones belonging to a _human_ vampire. "I suspected that might be the case." He then swung the sack over his shoulder onto the ground, and opened it up to reveal a very dead, very vampire-esque human head. Half the flesh on one side was burnt off, though. "Is this proof enough?"

The Ashkhan regained his composure almost immediately this time. He smiled, in a very 'I'm not admitting defeat' kind of way, and said, "That's good enough for me. In my power as Ashkhan of Zainab, I hereby appoint you Clanfriend of Zainab." He tersely continued explaining the privileges that came along with the title. He obviously wasn't happy.

Raedyn put on a polite smile throughout the speech, and said, "Now that you see that I'm not some imposter without ability, what say we talk about what we can do to get me anointed Zainab Nerevarine?"

Something seemed to click in Kaushad's head, and Raedyn wished he had put Moon-and-Star back on. He had a feeling this could get tricky.

Kaushad's friendly smile didn't help his suspicions. "Well, now that you have proven yourself able, I think a certain gift should be enough to secure your ascension, in my eyes."

Raedyn didn't think before asking, "Didn't I give you five thousand gold just an hour ago?"

Kaushad took the comment in stride. "That was that, this is this. There are some things money can't buy." _Though somehow, I don't think this will be cheap._ He thought. "I would like a bride." _He doesn't ask for much, does he? _"A highborn one, I might add. I prefer a well groomed Telvanni maiden."

Raedyn was suddenly glad he didn't have Moon-and-Star on. He didn't want to know if the Mer was playing with him, or if he was being serious.

0000000000

Hours later, Raedyn laid on a knoll a short distance from the encampment as dusk started to give way to night. Stupid suckering s'wit! Freaking foolish fetcher! How did he expect him to come up with something like that? He couldn't help but feel like he had just fallen into some joke on the Ashkhan's part. Or probably Azura's part. It wouldn't surprise him in the least; it _was_ pretty close to dusk when the exchange happened.

He had left his steel longsword back at the camp with the Wisewoman. She told him she would think about what to do about their predicament. From the short time they spent together, Raedyn quickly got the impression that anything that was supposed to happen around the camp happened because of her. That didn't surprise him in the least.

He had thought about asking her how that idiot managed to become Ashkhan, but he held back because he didn't want to risk the possibility that he would be insulting their culture (he still wasn't sure why she agreed to help him so quickly). Also, a part of him wasn't sure it was a good idea to know in the first place.

He thought Zainsubani said something about some camps electing their leaders through popular consensus. If that was the case, all it took was someone with no leadership skills but a good silver tongue to ruin everything. Of course, that wasn't much better than the monarchic and nepotistic systems found in Cyrodiil. All you had to do was either be born to a noble, or be good friends with him and ask nicely, and you're a leader whether you can lead or not.

Raedyn reached up and rubbed his head at the upcoming headache. Someday, and one probably not that far off, he was going to have to reform Morrowind. Neither of those two societal types sounded good. What else was there? And of course, he had to bring this up when he was brooding about the current impossible situation.

He let out a loud groan, only to get a hiss in response. Curious, he sat up and saw a Winged Twilight looking at him like a dog would look at venison. There he was, protected by naught but the cheapest (but fashionable) armor, no weapons, little skill in destruction, tired, annoyed, with the beginnings of a tension headache.

Raedyn smirked. _I like those odds._

Three minutes later, he strolled back into the camp, feeling much better now that he had released some of his frustration, while flipping the Grand Soul Gem containing the Winged Twilight as though it were a coin. The soul gem rumbled a little from its latest occupant. Raedyn chortled. "Sore loser."

0000000000

Farens Dren sat on the smooth beach rock overlooking his meeting point with Tholer Saryoni on the Azura Coast. He still ached all over, but there, on the coast, with nothing but the wind to keep him company, he felt a measure of peace.

_Peace…_

That was something he had been without for quite some time; even well before Ra'Zhan died. He wondered, for a moment, how his friend would have felt to have been an excuse to bring more pain into his life. The only Khajiit friend he ever had did more than keep him company with his wit and test his mettle as a rival, he was also ever worried about Farens' emotional health. He was one of the few wouldn't let him be when he had his fits of depression or anger. No, Ra'Zhan wouldn't be happy with how he dealt with his death by Otheril's hands.

_Raedyn Otheril…_

That name didn't evoke as much rage as before. He realized he didn't hate him anymore for Ra'Zhan's death; he missed his friend terribly, true, and he still harbored some bitterness toward Otheril, but it wasn't hate anymore. He had accepted the risks of his profession long ago, and he thought he had accepted that his friends in the Morag Tong carried the same risk. Apparently, he hadn't.

_Risks…_

He had come to realize, over time, that it was because of the risks and the violence that he had taken up the path of the Nightblade. He wanted danger, he wanted the pain that came with taking lives mercilessly. It was his punishment; punishment that would never equal atonement. He couldn't escape Vazon'Ruhn, no matter how hard he ran, and it was the punishment he inflicted on himself that eased his guilt.

No, he didn't hate Otheril. He hated himself. He hated his guilt, he hated his hatred, and he hated his weakness.

"_I hope one day, I can be as strong as you."_

_I'm not strong, Otheril, no matter what you may think. I wasn't doing anything about my anger, I let it consume me, burn me until there was nothing left. It's _your_ strength that I envy._

_I'm tired of running. I know what I have to do now._

Right then, Archcanon Saryoni appeared, right where and when he was supposed to arrive.

_But first, there are some amends I must make._

When the Archpriest caught sight of the Nightblade, he sneered as he usually did whenever he appeared to update his oath bound master. "I'll keep this brief: Otheril's trying to win over the four Ashlander tribes."

"Saryoni," Dren said, "Do you remember the words you used when you Oath Bound yourself to me?"

The sneer on Saryoni's face deepened. He recited the incantation and oath he used those weeks earlier. "And on the name of my ancestors, I Oath Bind myself to this commitment until death takes me, my Oath Master, or my Oath Master deems me released." He finished.

Farens nodded. "I deem you released." He watched, with mild fascination, as Saryoni seemed to stand taller, his eyes looked sharper, and appeared more relaxed.

The Archcanon glared at him indignantly, then smoothed out his robes and flicked away imaginary dust. "Are we done then?" He asked, maintaining his sanctimonious visage.

"We're done." Farens said, knowing that adding a thank you would anger the Mer even further.

"Otheril?"

"That's none of your business." Farens waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, indicating he didn't want to elaborate.

The Archcanon harrumphed, turned his back to Dren, and walked away, activating his usual intervention spell to return to the Temple. Farens chuckled slightly at the scene, the mer wanted to make a show by turning his back to him and moving away when it really didn't make a difference with the spell he used. For some reason, the whole exchange between them seemed comical.

Shaking the event off his mind, he sighed deeply. That was one amendment down, and one left to go. This next one, this last one, would be far more difficult.

0000000000

_Some things may be priceless, but nothing is without cost._ Raedyn mused, lamenting his significantly lighter coin purse. Sonummu Zabamat's idea may have been a brilliant one, but he still wished it could have been cheaper. He ended up selling that soul gem with the Winged Twilight in it to cover all the costs, though he had to admit, Falura Llerva looked stunning after all the high-end clothing he bought her.

Unfortunately, the slave trader, Savile Imayn, would only supply her 'merchandise' with a water-walking enchanted ring. That left Raedyn to swim to the island, as it was much faster than taking a boat to a port that was even farther from the Zainab Camp than they already were. Besides, he was tired of spending money, and wanted his remaining coin to count.

"So about this whole 'slave' business," Raedyn said. It didn't take long for him to be surprised at just how well versed she was in conversation and etiquette (Imayn really was as good a trainer as she boasted). All he knew about slavery was that it was illegal in most parts of Tameriel, so while he swam and she walked toward the island, he talked to her about the subject, hoping to understand it better. "The owner provides a home, food, and shelter all in exchange for work. I don't really see how bad that is. It sounds a lot better than being homeless, and there are a lot of people in Cyrodiil who can't find jobs on their own. Having someone find them a place that provides for them in exchange for work sounds like a good deal."

"When you put it like that, it may seem that way." Falura replied. "But these are lives being traded. We may still be working for our food and bed like in a regular job, but it's not by our choice. We can't go where we want, we can't do what we want, we're not allowed to be ourselves."

"You can't do what you want or go just anywhere when you're broke, either." Raedyn stated. Although, he had to admit, he was homeless and broke mostly by choice. He never even tried to get a job, so he didn't know how hard it would actually be. "How did you become a slave, anyway?"

"Well," she said in a casual tone with a sigh, "my father was a traveling peddler on the mainland, and he fell into some debt. Unable to pay it all back at once, we took a trip to Cyrodiil, and dad tried gambling his money in the Arena."

"I can see where this is going." Raedyn commented.

"He was pretty good at it, he was often able to tell who would win, but since gambling is illegal here in Morrowind, we never knew gambling could be addictive, and he started taking greater risks and we lost everything. Eventually, word of our debts spread to the Imperial City, and we were deported back home. There, my parents decided to sell me to a slave trader to pay off their debts, and that's how I ended up here."

Raedyn just said the only thing that came to mind, "Ouch." After a few minutes, he rolled over and swam using the backstroke. "So if you don't like being a slave so much, why haven't you run away from me yet? I'm sure you can run faster than I can swim."

She raised her arms in a 'what can you do' manner. "Where would I go? What would I do to provide for myself? Being a wife isn't as bad as being a slave. This way, at least, I can have a chance at a normal life." After a few seconds more of walking, she stopped and asked, "So what kind of mer did you find this Kaushad to be? Refined? Civilized?"

Raedyn hesitated to answer, and ended up backstroking the back of his head against a rocky piece of land sticking out from the shallow waters. Falura ran over to him to check on his head, and he was thankful she completely forgot her question.

0000000000

Hours later, when they reached the Zainab Camp, Falura stopped and pulled out the Telvanni Bug Musk he bought as part of the 'package'. "Does that stuff actually work?" Raedyn asked her.

"It's almost always worked for me." She answered. Pulling the cork out of the bottle, she put a handkerchief against the opening, tipped it over to pour some onto the clothe, and started wiping it around her neck. After a second, the heavy smell reached Raedyn's nose, and he started coughing. With a laugh, Falura continued, "The majority of musk evaporates quickly. After that, the remaining musk is too subtle to smell, but not too subtle to not have an effect."

Coughing a few more times, Raedyn said, "Whatever. Let's get this over with." He motioned for her to follow him as he led her to the Ashkhan yurt.

"Are there any customs or decorum I should know?" Falura asked as they got close.

"Just act like a Telvanni, and they won't take offense." At least, he hoped they wouldn't.

When they both entered the yurt, they saw Kaushad talking to another Ashlander, Raedyn thought he might have been the Camp's Champion. When the Ashkhan caught sight of the well dressed slave, his eyes went wide. "You're dismissed." He said quickly to the mer he was talking to. The male mer in question was slightly taken aback, and looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it, and wordlessly left.

Falura stepped forward, and curtsied low. "My lord Ashkhan, I am Falura Llerva."

Kaushad gaped like a slaughterfish out of water. After a moment, he said, "You are welcome under my hearth. If you'll excuse me?" He quickly moved over to Raedyn, and after a few moments of trying to find something fitting to say, he gave up and gave him a quick, hard hug. As soon as he disengaged, he turned toward his fiancée, then said to Raedyn, "Thank you, lord Otheril. You may leave."

"We had an agreement, Kaushad." Raedyn shot back.

"Huh?" The Ashkhan fumbled for a moment. "Oh, that. Um, in my capacity as Zainab Ashkhan, I pronounce you the Zainab Nerevarine. Uh…here, take this, the Thong of Zainab as proof of your status among us." He threw Raedyn a simple leather thong from the table with a nondescript tooth wrapped in the cord.

Raedyn inspected it for a moment, wondering if he threw him the right article. "Is this thing even enchanted?" He looked from the 'gift' and into Kaushad's face, seeing the very overt 'leave NOW' face. Deciding not to wear down his welcome anymore than it already was, he bowed and left.

0000000000

On his way to the Ahemmusa Camp, Raedyn determined this was too easy. Between the three Houses and the two Camps he's done so far, even though the trials may have seemed daunting at first, things worked out to ensure his success. If it was always this easy, any of the many people claiming to be the Nerevarine in the past would have made it to Red Mountain already. Azura was definitely good at what she did.

When he reached the Camp, there was a lot of activity. Villagers were moving about with a purpose, most carrying packages. Raedyn figured they must have been planning to move the Camp. Even here in the Grazelands, they still got the occasional Blight Storm.

As he looked across the Camp, something caught his eye. Something very out of place. He moved in that direction, trying to look between the dozens of Ashlanders moving about. When a path opened, he saw someone that definitely didn't belong in the Camp. Something that made his heart nearly skip a beat.

Farens Dren was there, looking straight at him.

End of chapter fifteen.

A/N: Okay, my reasons for being late with the update: my other grandpa died about six to ten months earlier than expected. Another funeral, then a memorial later. I nearly got a job, but ultimately failed (just like nearly everything else in my life). SEVERE WRITERS BLOCK. A few serious episodes of depression over failing to get ANOTHER job that, by all accounts, was in the bucket. Oh, and I just got back from a two-and-a-half month alien abduction. I haven't found out yet who won the presidential election. It was McCain, wasn't it? No way America would elect a black man.

Anyways, the next chapter MIGHT include the remaining two camps, I'm not sure yet. It depends on how long things I've planned out turn out. But in order to get it out in an acceptable amount of time, I want you all the mark down the day two weeks after this chapter comes out, and if I don't have the next chapter up by then, I want as many of you as possible to PM me once a day telling me to get my lazy ass moving. Be as scathing as you can.


	16. Memories of Battle

Quick A/N: Not a single PM telling me I was late! What the hell?!?! Some fanbase you are! Because of that, enjoy your late update.

**Chapter Sixteen: Memories of Battle**

For several moments, nothing happened; the two of them simply stared at each other. After nearly a minute of staring, Raedyn decided to take this out of the village. If he wanted revenge, he wasn't going to let the Ashlanders get involved.

Motioning with his head toward a series of small knolls, the Outlander moved toward the edges of the camp, watching as Dren followed suit. Two minutes later, the two of them were on the other side of a hill, away from anyone who would want to eavesdrop or interfere. As soon as Raedyn stopped, the two of them stood there, motionless, staring at each other once again.

"I appreciate the privacy." Dren said after a few moments of silence. Raedyn couldn't tell if he was mocking him, being sarcastic, or sincere. He guessed it was a combination of all three. He decided he didn't want the Moon-and-Star on right then. This was personal, and he didn't want to invade the other mer's thoughts.

Everyone had a right to privacy. "What do you want?" He demanded quickly.

Dren's brow furrowed in anger. "Don't think that just because you beat me last we met you can make demands out of me like some servant."

"My time is limited, and right now, you're a distraction." Raedyn shot back. "Whatever business you have with me, let's get it over with."

Dren huffed with annoyance. "You're a difficult one to deal with, aren't you? If you survive the prophecy, I wonder what kind of Nerevarine you'll make."

"Since our blades are still sheathed, I'll assume you didn't come here to fight." Raedyn said. "And mocking me isn't a good lead-in to an apology."

"I'm _not_ apologizing to you!" Dren quickly stated, vehemently. "There is no reason for me to apologize to you, just like there's no reason for you to apologize for Ra'Zhan's death."

"Is that so?" Raedyn asked, his voice holding no mocking tone. "Then I'm sorry about your friend."

Dren growled. "You're not making this easy for me."

"I don't care." Raedyn stated. "I don't care if you hate me or love me. I have a job to do, so whatever you want, get it over with." He crossed his arms, showing that was the end of the conversation on his end.

Dren huffed, then after a moment, growled in annoyance. He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them, he looked calmer. "Let me join you."

Raedyn did _not _expect that. "What?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"Let me join you in your quest to become the Nerevarine, allow me to be the blade that strikes your enemies when they least suspect. I offer my skills as a Nightblade to you to use as you deem necessary." He stated, his tone neutral, but his eyes betraying the difficulty with which he was making this offer.

After several moments of silence, Raedyn said the only thing that came to his surprised mind, "Why?"

"I have my reasons, and they're none of your business." Dren answered.

"Then how do I know you won't slip a knife in my back as soon as I turn around?"

"Why would I let you see me if I still wanted to kill you?"

"I would be a fool to believe you'd be so logical." Raedyn stated.

After a few moments of lingering silence, Dren finally said, "You were wrong about me." He explained. "I haven't done a single act of justice since Vazon'Ruhn." He paused for a few seconds before continuing. "Justice was my excuse, my lie, my cloak and not my sword. It's been so long since I've seen justice that I'm not sure I could find any if I tried. I believe that by walking your path, I can find it once again. I don't remember what justice is anymore, but you seem to."

Silence, once again, fell between the two of them. After a few moments, Dren continued in an angry voice, "So there, those are my reasons. Are you satisfied?!"

Raedyn didn't answer. He just looked at the Dunmer in front of him, fixing him with a stare that was as stoic as he could manage. Several minutes passed between them, no words were exchanged, nothing passed between them except the winds. He watched the older Dunmer who, at first, seemed just as calm as himself, but there were signs, a twitch of the hands, a clench of the fist, a shifting of the foot; Dren was getting more nervous as time passed without an answer. He wanted Raedyn to answer him; that was a good sign. He wanted him to decide his fate.

No, he wanted him to open the door; he's already chosen his fate. "We'll have many enemies. There's no guarantee the Houses and the Temple won't betray me. There may be very little left for us at the end of this road besides the gallows."

"I'm prepared for such an occurrence." He stated.

"And we're not out to take down the Temple." Raedyn stated.

"Revenge is not justice. That much I do remember."

For a moment, Raedyn was reminded of himself, just months, even weeks earlier. Farens Dren was trying to prove his worth to him, just like he had with the Ashlanders and the Houses. "If I take you with me, you will be the blade that strikes where I cannot, _not_ where I _will_ not. Understand?"

"I don't kill on a whim, Otheril."

After a few moments, Raedyn nodded. "Fine, you can come with me. I do the talking, you watch my back."

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Thirty minutes later, Raedyn walked out of Sinnammu Mirpal's yurt, meeting Farens who was leaning slightly against one of the support beams of a nearby yurt, arms crossed in patience. "What did the Wise Woman say?" He asked as soon as he was within talking distance.

"There are Blight Storms coming." Raedyn said. "The Daedric shrine up north, where they usually take shelter, has been recently restored. She's asked that we go up and make sure it's safe for them while she considers my claim." He pulled a large folded map out of the satchel at his hip. Gently placing the unfolded parchment on the ground, Raedyn pointed to where they were, and the island they were going toward. "Ald Daedroth is here. It's a good walk, but it shouldn't take longer than a few hours. This is where you can prove your worth."

"Lesser Daedra and their worshipers aren't a threat to mer like us." Farens stated.

"That's not what I was talking about." Raedyn said, with a serious tone. When he made sure his new partner was paying attention to him, he continued, "I'm tired of swimming, I've been doing it too much lately. I will consider your duty fulfilled if you cast repeated Water Walking spells on me."

Faren's visage turned to annoyance. "You're not taking my servitude seriously, are you?"

"You have no sense of humor, do you?"

The older mer shook his head while standing up and starting north. "Not on a mission, no."

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By the time the duo reached the southern shores of the island housing the shrine, the sky was already approaching twilight. True to his order, Farens used Water Walking spells on Raedyn so he wouldn't have to swim. Less than ten feet inland they were blocked off by a cliff wall.

"It's a big island." Raedyn mentioned. "This will probably be faster." He stepped up to the wall, and grabbing a hold of rocks some roots, he started climbing the nearly vertical wall. A couple minutes later, when he emerged at the top, he looked around to survey his surroundings. "That could be a problem. Could you sneak around to the east and…" He realized the mer he meant to talk to wasn't nearby like he thought. "Farens?" After looking around for a few seconds, he looked over the edge, and saw his partner still at the bottom of the cliff. "What are you still doing down there?" He called out.

Farens answered by pulling out a dagger, used a mark spell on it, and threw it up to the top of the fifty-foot cliff. It clanked against the rocks a little before settling ten feet away from the cliff edge, and the Nightblade himself appeared a moment later. "Your way was much too dangerous and slow, Otheril."

"Maybe, but you could have ended up in the middle of that." Raedyn calmly answered, pointing inland toward two groups viciously fighting, one of the groups obviously Ordinators. "Mine might've been slow, but yours was reckless."

Farens huffed in indignation. "Whatever. I suppose you'd like me to scout out the area and report on our situation?"

"That was the idea. If I can't use my own personal Nightblade as more than a simple enforcer, he might as well just be ornamental." Raedyn answered. Huffing again with indignation, Farens took off at a trot to take a circuitous route around the action, using an invisibility spell while he was at it.

As soon as he did that, Raedyn knelt down and put his back against a nearby obelisk so he could have some cover while peeking around the edge to observe the action. He had to admit, it was a pleasant change of pace to travel in company, even if he didn't talk like Falura did. A moment later, a small stone suddenly hit him in the side of the head, causing stars to fill his vision for a minute. As he rubbed the swelling sore spot, he admitted it wasn't a completely pleasant change of pace.

A few minutes later, Farens released his invisibility spell with his face just a couple inches from Raedyn's face, startling him. "Fetching s'wit, don't do that!" He demanded.

"I've found the leader of the Ordinators." The older mer announced, as if the previous statement never happened. "If we can convince him we're not with the cultists, we might be able to move about without worrying about the Ordinators sticking us."

Raedyn sighed. "Fine, take me to him."

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After circumventing nearly a quarter of the island, the duo found themselves near the base of operations for the Ordinators, which was little more than a congregation with a few maps and scrolls nearby with a few boats near the shoreline and a Temple barge a short distance out on the water. Stepping out of their hiding spot, Raedyn took the lead and walked over to the Ordinators.

The few Temple Warriors that were near the apparent leader eyed them with what might have been suspicion, due to the masks they had to rely on body language alone. "Greetings." Raedyn said. "I'm Jiub, this is Farens. Are you the leader here?"

After a few moments, the one he was addressing answered, "You're Jiub, as in the Jiub that was recently release from the Imperial City's prison, and started a skooma smuggling operation in Suran?" He asked, his arms crossed across his chest.

"Uh, no." Raedyn answered, an octave higher than he intended. _Jiub, you one-eyed bastard,_ he thought angrily, _what have you gotten yourself into?_

The Ordinator waved his hand in a dismissive gesture before crossing his arms again. "Even if you were, I don't have time for you. Yes, I'm the captain of this operation. You can call me Drores Arvel. What do you want?"

"Well, uh, we were hoping to loot this shrine before we found out you were here. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Sanguinites." He explained, disdain in his tone. "They want a party here. We tell them, we warn them, and we frequently remind them, only on private property and never in public or historical sites. Personally, I'm glad they got violent, or else we might have struck first." He huffed. "Stupid freedom of religious practice. Partygoers and orgy makers like those ought to be persecuted on principle alone."

Glad that Farens hadn't said or done anything yet, Raedyn continued, "Well, is it okay if we loot the shrine? Without fear of your men attacking us?"

Arvel gave another dismissive hand gesture. "None of the cultists have reached it yet, and the way things are going, they won't, so knock yourselves out. Just mind the Daedra the last cult cooked up."

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The next day, Sinnammu Mirpal stepped within the innermost chamber of Ald Daedroth, and saw the remains of some blood smears from where Daedra had been disposed of. "I'm impressed. Many had come to our village in the last couple hundred years seeking our approval as Nerevarine, but you're the first to show results after a true test."

"There's only so much one person can do on their own." Raedyn said, remembering their battle.

_Raedyn rushed forward, sidestepping a battle hammer swing only to find his counterattack blocked by the dremora lord's gauntlet, despite the fact that the force of his blow broke the daedra's arm. He stepped back to get windup for a swing that would take the dremora's head off, but his opponent's counterattack was ahead of him, Raedyn would be struck first._

_Suddenly, the dremora lord stopped his swing and arched his back as Farens uncloaked and stabbed him in the back. A moment later, Raedyn finished his swing and took the daedra's head off._

_With that opponent down, the young mer extended his senses through the Moon-and-Star, and was able to tell there were others coming. Looking around him, in the multilayered chamber they were in, he saw several daedra enter the room, running around the statue of the daedra prince this shrine worshiped._

"_Farens," Raedyn said, lowering his forearm low enough to where Farens could step on it, "stand on my arm. Conjure a bow and give me fire support."_

_Not taking the time to ask what he was talking about, the Nightblade did as he was told, and as he stood on Raedyn's arm, the younger mer hurled him up to the second level. The acrobatic assassin landed deftly and immediately leaned over the railing to snipe daedra._

_Hefting his sword, Raedyn prepared for another fight._

"I'm lucky to have someone who works so well with me." Raedyn added.

"Yes, I don't doubt it." Sinnammu said, looking around the large room, as if gauging its worth. "The Nerevarine should not only be good at getting results, but also choosing good allies." Apparently finished with her inspection, Raedyn suspected she was looking for lingering conjuration magic or the like that might later become a threat, she walked up to the young mer, and bowed. "You have done well, Raedyn Otheril. I will head back to the camp on my own, and I will tell them to spread word that you are the Ahemmusa Nerevarine."

Raedyn bowed back, and turned to leave, Farens quick to catch up. Not a word was exchanged between them as they made their way out of the shrine. When the older mer wordlessly cast a water-walking spell on his partner, Raedyn couldn't stand it anymore. "What's wrong? Something's on your mind."

After a few moments, Farens finally said, "I know you had your doubts about me. But that show of faith back then…it meant a lot to me." He stated, almost as if it were embarrassing.

Raedyn huffed, and muttered under his breath, "I could say the same thing."

_The daedroth's claw raked at his forearm, the pain making him let go of his sword. Through the pain, Raedyn was barely able to lift his hands and grab onto the front of the daedra's gator-like jaws to keep it from clamping down on his head, its teeth cutting deeply into his hands. Through the Moon-and-Star, he felt the killing intention of another daedra, and with his hold of the daedroth's mouth, swung it around him to take the battle ax to its back. The monster screamed in pain as its corporeal flesh was cleft, and the dremora lord tried to pull the ax out only to find it stuck in there._

_Raedyn risked a glance at where Farens was, only to see him unconscious, face down in the standing water. If he didn't get to him, he would drown or suffocate. Suddenly, the daedroth pushed forward, and the dremora lord behind it pushed against its back as well. With both daedra pushing, he couldn't hold his ground, and was pushed back until his legs collided with a pile of rubble. He suddenly found himself on his back with rock poking painfully into his back, with two daedra pushing down on him._

_He couldn't use an intervention or recall spell, they would kill Farens with him gone. If he used a fireball spell, he'd blow his own hands off, and he couldn't hold them back with just one arm long enough to conjure a weapon. A moment of panic gripped him. There was nothing he could do, and Farens was dying, or maybe already dead, while he was still too weak to fend for himself._

_With thoughts of his new partner in his mind, the Moon-and-Star activated, and for a moment, he could see the older mer's dreams. A Morrowind where the people could call themselves independent and mean it, a land where the children wouldn't be afraid of Red Mountain or Blight Storms, and he saw, through all of those visions, that he was the one who made it all possible._

_He knew that many people were depending on him, but this was the first time Raedyn had ever seen someone have true faith in him. No, he couldn't die. He had to live!_

_With a battle cry, Raedyn pushed forward with everything he had, feeling muscles and tendons strain and even snap under the exertion. The brief burst of power managed to push the two daedra back half a foot, but that was all the leverage he needed to push the daedroth's maw away from him, and allowed him to get up close to the demon's chest. Wasting no time, he conjured a long sword, and stabbed both daedra at once. After a few seconds of convulsion, both creatures went limp._

_Pushing them off of him, Raedyn immediately went to Farens's side, and pulled him out of the water and sat him up against the wall. As soon as he did, he heard the older mer start breathing again. That was good, it meant he was conscious enough to know not to breathe in the water, but his eyes weren't focusing. From the blood running down the side of his face, he could tell he took a bad blow to the head. Pulling a restorative potion out from his pouch, he uncorked it and put it to Farens's lips. "Come on, drink this. It'll make you feel better." The barely conscious Farens eventually took the bottle top in his mouth and slowly drank the bitter liquid. When eventually he pushed it away, the older mer coughed several times, nearly falling over._

_Waiting for the concoction to take effect, Raedyn used a detection spell to survey the area. "Are there any left?" Farens asked after a minute, sounding barely lucid._

"_Yes. There are still five upstairs, but it doesn't seem like they know we're here." Raedyn answered. He chugged the rest of the bottle, and said, "You stay here and rest. You've done well." He stood up, but found a hand grabbing his wrist._

"_I didn't…offer you my help…just to be…brushed aside!" Farens said as he slowly got himself back onto his feet. "I still have strength in me. I won't let you walk into a slaughter on your own. If you die, then we'll all die, I'll just be ahead of the curve."_

_Raedyn wanted to protest, but knew the mer was correct. He was tired and battle worn, it would be pure luck that saw him through the fight if he didn't have help. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Fine, but don't you dare die before me."_

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Three days later, the two finally made it to the Erabenimsum Camp. They took their time on the trip to nurse their wounds and weariness. Ald Daedroth was much tougher than either of them had expected. Though neither of them had received serious injury, both had strained themselves physically and mentally, even Raedyn with his strength and stamina.

Most of the trip had been spent in silence; Farens was never one to talk much, but Raedyn had a lot on his mind. He had been pushed to his limit just by a couple dozen daedra. If the Tribunal were each considered gods in their own right, and the three of them couldn't compete with Dagoth Ur, then what chance did he have? It was true that he was very talented with the sword, his skill may have been on par with an expert, and he had strength and stamina that even the strongest Orc would have been envious of, he was still a novice when it came to fighting. It was trickery that made him win against Bolvyn Venim, despite a huge difference in physical ability, and even Farens managed to maim him.

The only thing he could think of that could give him any confidence was that Azura probably had something in mind that would give him the strength necessary in the end. On the other hand, though, she could very well be leading him down the road to martyrdom. She was using him to restore daedra worship in Morrowind. He already knew of her wrath when she branded the all the Chimer forever dark just because of what their leaders did. She, and the other daedra, wanted to use him to increase their worshipers so they could have more playthings. They might be getting rid of the Tribunal Temple, but how was he to know whatever replaced them wouldn't be just as bad or worse? There were always power-players ready to pounce at such a chance. He had seen, first hand, how easy it was for the corrupt to get into power back during the First Counsel.

When he had realized that was a memory he shouldn't have, he quickly ended that train of thought, and spent the rest of the day focusing just on what was in front of him, mentally chanting, _I'm Raedyn Otheril, not Nerevar. I'm Raedyn Otheril…_

As the two Dunmer passed the first few yurts and entered the camp grounds, they saw how the locals were shying away from them; some looking hateful, some looking scared, and several who looked the former because of the latter.

"Cheerful bunch." Farens muttered, pushing his hood back a little farther to give him better peripheral vision. When he looked at Raedyn's face, he saw the younger mer shake his head, indicating he didn't want any kind of antagonism in the village.

After a couple minutes of searching, they found the Wise Woman's yurt. Raedyn proceeded inside while Farens waited outside. He knew his presence would deter others from entering to see the Wise Woman, and while he knew it was unnecessary, he enjoyed intimidation. Many considered his abuse of magic, especially Illusion, to be cheap, so he liked doing things without its help when matters weren't important.

After half an hour, Raedyn stuck his head out of the yurt. "Farens, this concerns you." Slightly surprised but not losing any composure, he entered the yurt as well. There, he and Raedyn sat on weaved mats across the fire pit from the Wise Woman.

"This is your enforcer?" She asked the Nerevarine.

"He is my partner." Raedyn corrected. "An undertaking like this will involve him."

The she-elf addressed Farens at this point. "Then I shall sum up what the two of us have discussed. I don't know what to believe with your friend's messianic claims, and I don't much care. You two present a unique opportunity for this camp's safety that I cannot pass up. I want the two of you to kill the Ashkhan Ulath-Pal and his supporters, and then convince Gulukhan Han-Ammu to become our new Ashkhan."

When Farens finished taking this all in, he turned to Raedyn and said, "And you agreed to this? I thought you were against violent solutions."

"I am, but we've discussed all other options, and this is the only win-win situation." He explained.

"Win-win for us and the one this Wise Woman supports, but what about the rest of the tribe?" He honestly didn't care much for Ashlanders, but a part of him felt they had to maintain a certain degree of saintly or 'righteous' conduct. A part of him supposed he wanted that as a way to break free of his past methods.

"It _is_ for the sake of the camp." Raedyn insisted.

"Ulath-Pal will lead this tribe to ruin." The Wise Woman, he hadn't caught her name, elaborated. "He has stomped on our pride and turned our warriors into thugs and thieves. In the name of Ashland Pride, our warriors have been raiding Imperial and Tribunal settlements. If we do not stop soon, they will strike back. Han-Ammu is not a warrior, but he has the qualities we need for peace, to ensure our safety. Ulath-Pal is too proud; he would rather lead the entire camp to its death than treat with an Outlander."

Turning to look at Raedyn once again, Farens saw the reluctance in his face. As long as his 'partner' knew what it meant, he would support his decision. "Alright. You said his supporters as well. Who are they?"

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Han-Ammu ran the stone across his sword one last time, deciding the chips were finally smoothed out. He looked at the weapon in admiration, thinking how it was beautiful but little better than any other. Just like himself the article was just for appearances rather than actual use. Before Ulath-Pal took up the mantle, many wanted him to succeed his father. He hadn't said it aloud, but he would have refused the position of Ashkhan if it had been offered. He accepted the Gulukhan offer only reluctantly, but found it was just what he wanted. No responsibilities, no burdens, no one looking to him for answers. He was content here, just as he always wanted.

Standing up and walking with the sword over to the table with the accompanying scabbard, he started to sheath the blade, but stopped halfway when he heard something that sounded like a muffled scream. He judged the direction to be from the other khan yurts, and quickly dismissed it. Ahaz and Ulath-Pal were probably rough housing again. Those two could be like children sometimes. He smiled for a moment, remembering what it was like to be a child again. He thought becoming Ashkhan like his father would be the ultimate honor.

How wrong he came to realize he was when he grew up. It was the ultimate burden. If anyone died in battle, it would be because of his poor leadership. If anyone was crippled through illness, it would be because he didn't do enough with the apothecaries and traders to get the proper antidotes. If the camp was ruined by a Blight Storm, it was because of his bad judgment. That was why he hadn't contested Ulath-Pal's claim to the title of Ashkhan. He was far better than he could ever be.

A minute later, he heard the flap to his yurt open, and he saw a Dunmer he didn't recognize stick his head in, keeping his eyes to the ground. "You may enter." He said, keeping the sheathed sword in hand, and willed himself to ease his grip on the weapon so his knuckles weren't white.

The young Dunmer entered, and another one entered after him. The younger one wore netch leathers and had a healing scar between his eyes, while the other wore black robes. He felt nervous around these strangers, and almost demanded to know what they were doing in the camp, but kept his fear in check and said, "Under Hearth and Star, I welcome you."

The younger one bowed deeply, and a hesitant moment later, the other bowed as well. "Your welcome honors us. Han-Ammu, I presume?"

When they both rose back up, Han noticed the blood on the hands of the robed one and on the boots of the scarred one. He froze up when he realized what he was dealing with. He thought of pulling out his sword first, but dared not to. Whoever these two where, they were good enough to kill in the camp and not raise a clamor. "Who are you?" He asked, fear finally seizing his voice. "What do you want?"

The scarred one stepped forward, making Han take a quick step back. "I am Raedyn Otheril." He stated. "I am Indoril Nerevar reincarnated, come to reclaim Resdayn and return the bounty I once promised to the Ashlanders."

"Get out, get out!" He demanded, despite his voice lacking any authority or courage. "You are not welcome here, Outlander." When neither figure moved, he pulled out his sword in a panicky manner. "You have blood on you. Who did you kill?"

The one who identified himself as Raedyn pulled something off the back of his belt, and showed it to be the Ax of Airan-Ammu, his father. Ulath-Pal took it as a symbol of the Ashkhan. He felt the blood rush out of his face. "Please don't kill me." His pleading voice had gone pathetically quiet.

"We're not here to kill you." Raedyn said. "When I adopted your people all those millennia ago, I promised to protect them, from the outside as well as from the inside." He hooked the ax back onto his belt. "Ulath-Pal was a greater threat to this tribe than even Red Mountain."

Han-Ammu felt himself starting to go numb. Nothing like this was supposed to happen. Ulath-Pal was supposed to secure the safety of the camp, they were supposed to lead easier, safer lives. In the space of a minute, these two strangers destroyed it all. It couldn't be happening. This wasn't possible. "You killed our leaders." He muttered in disbelief.

"From what I heard, this camp needed a new leader." Raedyn stated.

"Who?!" Han demanded, knowing there wasn't anyone else in the camp who could match Ulath-Pal. When he saw the two mer looking at him, the quiet anger he had felt was replaced again by fear. "No. No, I can't…"

"You have little choice." The robed one said. "You'll either accept it now, or the people of this camp will demand you take the post you should have filled years ago."

"No, get out. I said, _get out_!" He yelled. "This is _not_ my destiny."

"It is, you just don't want to accept it." Raedyn insisted. "You _will_ accept it, just like we have."

Han-Ammu held his sword in front of him in a battle-ready position, trying to be as threatening as he could. "Shut up! Can't you see I don't want this? I'm not like you."

Despite his bravado, he felt his blood turn cold at the sight of the young mer's glare. "Do you think this is what I wanted? The burden that whatever mistake I make might cause this country to fall? If I could have, I would have gladly given it to someone else, so _do not_" he said, pointing at Han-Ammu in emphasis, "claim that I want this more than you do!"

"What do you know about what I want?" The Gulukhan challenged.

"I can see it in your eyes, you reacted to this much the same way I did when I found out I was the Nerevarine." Raedyn said. "You don't want others to rely you. You don't want to be in charge of anyone or anything, not even your own life, because as long as someone else is in control you can always blame everything on someone other than yourself. Being exempt from blame is a great haven for you, one you're afraid of losing right now."

"But you still accepted the position of Gulukhan so that no one could accuse you of shunning all responsibility, not even yourself." The robed man continued. "A part of you still wants to make a difference, but you're too afraid to take any direct action. You gave yourself the power, but always put off using it to help others. You've locked yourself in stasis, right at the cusp of between the safety you don't want to lose, and enacting the change you wish to bring about."

Han wanted to refute them, to denounce them, something to show that they were wrong about him. But nothing came. He could think of no counter argument, no flaw in their claims.

Raedyn walked up to him, pulled Han-Ammus' father's ax off his belt, and set it on the ground between them. "I don't claim to have known your father." He said. "I know only the words the Erabenimsum have spoken. And it seems to me, he was a mer who did what was required of him, not for himself, but for the camp. Regardless of whether or not you follow in his footsteps, his ax now belongs to you. Do what you will with it. The choice is yours." He turned, and started toward the exit to the yurt.

Han-Ammu looked down at his father's ax, the weapon that always meant more to the camp, and himself, than simply being a weapon.

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Raedyn continued toward the exit, and as Farens started to turn to follow him out, he heard the Gulukhan speak up, "Wait." The two of them turned around and saw him standing there, staring down at the weapon he gripped with both hands. "What do you want with the Erabenimsum?"

"I need the support of this camp for my claim as the Nerevarine. That is all." Raedyn answered.

The mer looked back down at the ax in his hands, and after a few moments said, "I will support your claim, but in return, I ask that you leave Erabenimsum alone. You are not to interfere with this camp ever again."

Raedyn turned so he was facing Han-Ammu fully, and bowed. "As you wish. I will honor our agreement." He then turned, and with Farens in tow, left the camp. The Fifth Trail was complete.

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Author's Note: *holds a perforated double-paddle, the kind that **really, really** smarts when struck by* Six weeks. Six weeks, this chapter is late, and I didn't get a single Private Message, not even one reminding me that this chapter was over due! Let alone anything scathing to try and get me working again. All those who said you would try and remind me, I have a paddle with your names on it. And Thaddeus Halstead, you promised you would and that you'd be scathing, so each spank you get will include a running start!

Now, as for WHY it's late, I _can_ say, with a certain degree of honesty, that after the two week mark I was hesitant to work on it a few times because I felt slightly angry that no one encouraged me to go to work, though when I think about it, I really shouldn't rely on others to keep me on schedule. Mostly, though, it was because I got stuck a few times. I was stuck on the part where Raedyn and Farens liberated Ald Daedroth for nearly a month. I didn't want to be cheap and say _and so, after they massacred everything within the temple_, and I felt that writing the _entire_ shrine would take way too long and take up too much space, I was kinda stuck, until I finally figured out this little compromise I came up with. Also, the changes I made with the Han-Ammu scene (minus Farens) was something I had planned somewhere around chapter five or so. I'm glad I finally got it done. Now I just have to figure out exactly how I'm going to deal with the scene between Raedyn and Vivec.


	17. Memories

**Chapter Seventeen: Memories…**

Walking up to the rickety door, Raedyn pushed it open slightly to peer outside. The Blight Storm was still raging. Some hours earlier, while he and Farens were traveling through the Molag Amur region to Molag Mar to catch a ferry to Vivec, a storm had hit them without warning, and the two of them quickly searched for a cave to hide in until it died down. Raedyn didn't have much to fear besides getting lost, due to his immunity to Blight Disease, but he didn't want to risk Farens's health.

He hadn't told his companion about his immunities, largely because he knew the older, prideful Mer wouldn't want to feel burdensome. He had seen how Farens forced himself to keep up with Raedyn, forced himself not to take breaks in order to not slow them down.

"The Storms are getting worse." Farens said behind him. His presence surprised him, he hadn't heard the Mer sneak up on him, but Raedyn didn't jump or reach for his sword immediately. He had gotten better at dealing with surprises.

"The Tribunal's strength is waning," Raedyn said, "as Dagoth Ur grows stronger. This is only going to continue to get worse until I defeat him." He was starting to get more and more memories from Nerevar. Usually just fragments, but he remembered that, before the First Council, before Indoril Nerevar joined with Dumac Dwarfking to drive off the invading Nords, Dagoth had proposed several times the idea of making peace with the Dwarves. _Is there anything left in you of the Mer you once were, Voryn?_ He wondered.

"But for now, this Storm won't last forever. We'll continue to wait it out. Right now we can't sacrifice any of our strength for haste." He turned around and started down the tunnel back into the Kwama nests. "And Vivec's not going anywhere in the mean time."

Back at the campsite where they had started a small fire and laid down sleep mats as seats, deep enough into the tunnels where the howling Storm was only a mild growl, Raedyn used a mild Detection spell to make sure no Kwamas were approaching them. Farens told him that, as long as they didn't come too close to the egg nests, the creatures usually left visitors alone. As Farens arrived a moment later, he sat down opposite the fire from Raedyn. "Do you think Vivec will be able to help us?" The elder Mer asked.

"At the very least, he should be able to provide us with some insight." Raedyn answered. "We don't even know _where_ in Red Mountain Dagoth Ur is. Vivec has been there, and so have Sotha Sil and Almalexia. Until recently, they returned to Red Mountain, to the tools of Kogrenac to renew their powers. He'll remember where that is, and if he doesn't know how to use the Tools to our advantage, Sotha Sil will."

"Except that Sotha Sil hasn't been seen in public in decades." Farens added. "And of Almalexia, I've heard disturbing news from Mournhold of late."

"Regardless," Raedyn continued unperturbed, "I don't have the strength to take on something as powerful as Dagoth Ur. We need help and guidance. Azura has provided the necessary help up 'til this point, I can't imagine she doesn't have a plan about how I can get the advantage on him."

Farens pulled back the hood of his black robe, revealing his silvery Mohawk, and gazed at Raedyn through the flames separating them with pitying, and curious eyes. "You take a lot of things on faith, don't you?"

The younger Mer scoffed. "No." After a few moments, he admitted, "Okay, maybe. I only do it when I can't think of any other way. I don't like the idea of my life being dictated by someone or something out of my control." He slumped forward until his elbows were resting on his bent knees. "It's too much like my old life."

"What do you mean?"

"I always said everything was out of my control; that the gods hated me, the people would never accept me, that everything about me was out of my control. It kept me alone, it never let me be more than nothing. Now that I'm different, I hate how weak I was back then."

Farens's eyes fell to the flames as well. "I can understand that. After Vazon'Ruhn, I refused to have my life be played out on any terms besides my own."

"You don't trust easily." Raedyn stated, still gazing into the flames. It wasn't a revelation, or an observation, he was simply adding in how Farens was.

"And neither do you. But unlike me, you're able to set aside your pride and fear to do what you know you must." He stopped at that, and the two of them continued to gaze into the fire until the Storm died down.

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Two days later, Raedyn walked up the steps to the Temple Canton with Farens following along. When they reached the terrace outside the only entrance to the shrine, Raedyn turned to Farens and said, "Wait here."

The older Dunmer said nothing as he handed Raedyn the key he had pilfered off of Archcanon Saryoni. Both had agreed earlier that meeting with the archcanon personally was an unnecessary risk. After handing it over, Farens walked over and leaned against the wall next to the temple entrance. He pulled the hood of his robe down a little to cover his eyes, though with their elevated position he could still see anyone who came near the stairs leading to them.

Putting the key into the keyhole, Raedyn took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Everything he knew about Vivec was second hand information, and the only time he saw the Chimer in person, he witnessed a display of power like nothing he had ever seen.

And yet, this very being was apparently looking to him to do what he couldn't. Try as he might, Raedyn couldn't come up with a single explanation as to how he was, in any way, more capable than the God-King he was about to meet. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?

He was just making excuses again. This wasn't the time to hesitate. He remembered something Caius told him, _The greatest skill an agent can have is being able to do whatever needs to be done no matter the desire to hesitate. Whether it's to take a life or to do something that you fear, the discipline to take the plunge without hesitation is crucial._

He turned the key. Before he could open the door, he was already inside the Temple. There was no breeze, no smell, even the cackling of the torches and lanterns seemed unnaturally quiet as their weak lights left many shadows in the room. And directly in front of him, Raedyn saw the Chimer floating in the lotus position.

Up close, the entity looked even more alien than he had expected. His skin looked as though it were stretched taut across his body, especially his face to the where it looked like he couldn't even blink, yet it looked as smooth as glass. He wore naught but a loincloth and pieces of armor, yet the towering figure looked more regal than Raedyn could imagine if he wore clothes fit for a king. His eyes seemed unusually large, and were much more slanted than elven eyes usually were.

Raedyn couldn't tell if he was looking at him, or through him. Seeing him up close, he felt a powerful sense of unease. The uncertainty he felt before was nothing compared to the fear he suddenly felt. Almost instinctively, he supplied magicka to the Moon-and-Star, and instantly wished he hadn't.

Looking at Vivec, he felt and saw memories and emotions so quickly and violently, he nearly lost all sense of where he ended and Vivec began. Yet behind all those scenes, there was something else Raedyn had never seen in anyone, a vast gaping void behind all of those, behind and yet one with Vivec himself, all encompassing and infinite; and he felt it pull on him, threatening to consume his body and soul.

Cutting off all magicka to the ring, Raedyn was left alone back in his body. Sudden exhaustion claimed him, and he collapsed onto his knees, the shock of what he saw and experienced taking its toll on him. He stayed there for several seconds, taking in big gulps of air before Vivec finally broke the silence.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice melodious and beautiful, like the ringing of chimes made into words, yet they contained a hint of the power and authority of a god. It was not a request, it was an order.

"Don't you know?" Raedyn asked, a hint of defiance in his voice.

"Don't you?" Vivec asked, his authoritative, melodious voice flat. "We ask again, who are you? Are you a lowborn orphan from Cyrodiil come to claim greatness, or are you Indoril Nerevar reborn to reclaim?"

Raedyn said nothing for several seconds. "I don't know. I could be either of them, both, or none of them. What does it matter?"

"It might not matter at all. It might matter more than anything else. Voryn Dagoth was cunning in his mortality; in his immortality, he could be anything. His greatest power is our ignorance. Almsivi cannot pierce his veil of secrets. For years, he hid himself behind this veil. Even after he stole Kagrenac's tools and became known to us, he was outside our influence. And with the tools, his power waxed while we waned. Soon, he will be able to pierce our veils, and we will be his slaves. That is why the others have withdrawn."

Still feeling unsteady, Raedyn forced himself to stand up. "What do you mean by that?"

"Almalexia and Sotha Sil no longer support the Ghostfence, leaving this one alone as the solitary pillar. Sotha Sil has lost himself in his clockwork city, and Almalexia is lost in her despair. It was inevitable, this one supposes, Seht ever yearned to learn everything possible, for ruled by his fear of ignorance was he; and Ayem never regained her hope after Nerevar's death."

"They wait for the Sharmat to kill them." Raedyn stated.

"If we were to enter the Ghostfence, we would be exposed to Dagoth Ur's greater power. We would be undone, deposed. Here, he can do naught but glare at us, as we can do naught but glare at him and this one maintain the Fence."

"You were fools to think yourselves eternal." Raedyn stated, with no malice in his voice, only truth. "Lorkhan's lesson was lost on you, even gods can die."

Vivec's face seemed to relax somewhat, and his eyes closed, disproving Raedyn's earlier assumption. Unfolding his legs, Vivec floated down and stood on his own legs. He still towered over Raedyn. "I suppose you're right. Nerevar could always see the wisdom that was lost on us. Perhaps…that gave birth to the jealousy underneath our love for him. For all we were, we could never be his equal. We knew it, and we hated it."

"And that is why you killed him?" Raedyn asked.

Vivec reopened his eyes, but didn't look at Raedyn, instead opting to look at the ground, a look of forlorn memories in his eyes. "We didn't kill him. And yet we did. It took me a long time to understand this."

Not interested in riddles, Raedyn asked, "Are you to assist me in defeating Dagoth Ur?"

Vivec turned, and walked over to a wall with a small table of parchments. He lifted his hand over the documents as though he were going to touch them, but his hand moved as though rubbing them from a foot above their time-cracked and withered surfaces. "I can do little besides advice, and breaking a certain seal. The people are your weapon and shield, and you hold the key. They and it will protect you from Dagoth in a way we cannot protect ourselves."

"The people?" Raedyn asked, confused. "How would I wield such a weapon?"

"They will wield themselves, and protect you of their own will. That was our greatest failure as gods. We believed in our influence over the people, yet it was the otherway around. We had no power over them they did not give us." He turned and looked at Raedyn again. "They will save you, but only if you have faith in them, the faith we never had."

"And the seal you mentioned?"

Vivec held up a gauntlet that had not been in his hand a moment earlier. "Wraithguard will protect you from the tools, just as the people will protect you."

Slipping the heavy gauntlet onto his arms, Raedyn said, "You speak enough riddles for both of us. Speak plainly."

He gave a small smile, and said, "We may have abandoned Azura, yet she has not abandoned us. What I told you is all I know. I understand it no more than you." He walked forward and stood next to Raedyn, staring at the only door in the room. The dunmer felt he was looking beyond the wall toward his enemy.

He then noticed the content look on Vivec's face suddenly turn menacing. The ground under his feet shook violently, and Raedyn fought to keep himself upright while the God-King appeared unfazed. Vivec then lifted his arm, and the wall became transparent. Looking through the new window, seeing Farens there outside with his shortsword out and hood down, looking ready to fight, he saw clouds of ash, larger than he ever could have imagined, blasting up from Red Mountain.

"Not since the First Era has the Mountain erupted." Vivec muttered. "The sun will be blotted out for many days while the ash falls. He is trying to spread fear across the land."

"How could he have survived the eruption?" Raedyn asked, not tearing his eyes away from the rising ash. Those clouds must have been miles wide, and they rose so high…

"His physical body is of no consequence. As long as he is tied to the Heart of Lorkhan, he is eternal." The wall ceased being transparent, and Vivec turned to Raedyn. "Only Kagrenac's Tools can destroy the Heart. One strike of Sunder will open the Heart, and Keening will tune the power. Five strikes from the sword will destroy it completely."

Raedyn turned to face Vivec as he continued, "Touching either of these tools will disintegrate your body. Wraithguard will keep these effects at bay. Somehow, Dagoth Ur has found a way to allow his servants to hold them without ill effect."

"And I suppose I'll have to fight these servants for the tools?"

"Yes. His Ash Vampires are not to be taken lightly. It seems, though, that Dagoth Ur is able to increase his capacity for Lorkhan's powers by tuning himself with his seven servants. If you take them out, his powers will be greatly diminished."

_Finally, some good news._ Raedyn thought. "I will wait seven days before assaulting Red Mountain, until then I need you to do something for me." When Vivec nodded, he continued, "Spread word through the Great Houses, Guilds, Buoyant Armigers and Ordinators that I need the most capable Scout-Warriors they can spare, race means nothing to me. They are to meet me at the Ghostgate in seven days."

Vivec nodded, and moved over to his dais while Raedyn opened the door and stepped out of the Temple.

"So," Farens said, not taking his eyes away from the still rising clouds of ash, "did he answer your questions?"

Raedyn thought about it, and realized the God-King had answered all of his questions without him asking them. Strange how some things can work out. "Yes, he did." Looking up at the spreading ash, he said, "Farens, if you've got friends or anyone else you want to see before the final assault, go see them now, and meet me at the Ghostgate in seven days. We will assault Red Mountain then. I'll explain on the way to the Gondolas."

He looked up, and watched as the ash, crossing the sky faster than any cloud he had ever seen, blotted out the sun and left them in ominous darkness.

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_Who am I but a puppet?_ He often wondered, sitting in Caius's house, waiting for the six days to pass. The long days weren't peaceful, but they were calm. He was rarely hungry, but he forced himself to eat. He was always tired, but the nights were restless. He could hear all manner of noise outside the small house, but the house itself was always quiet.

He had always drifted along, like the Odai River, now black with ash. Worries and thoughts of what will happen on the seventh day passed him by, weaving into his mind and away as quickly, ephemeral ghosts there to remind him, to keep him sane. The noise and hustle of the outside world passed him by; separated, leaving him blissfully alone.

Once again, he wanted to be alone. He had been alone for so long, solitude had been his only friend. This was his last chance to be away, gone from the world and its realities. Away from the eternal reminder that he was now someone special, someone that was needed by others to do something. He needed the rest, he needed the solitude.

He had been alone for so long, solitude had become his only friend. Solitude…and Caius. The older Imperial had been harsh and critical of him, and Raedyn had hated him for it. And yet, Caius protected him. By all rights, the man should have seen him as a tool, to discard when broken. He should have seen him as being underneath him, inferior, unworthy. And yet, Caius protected him.

And he was gone. Now, Raedyn felt the only thing he could do for the old man was to watch over his small house. He needed the quiet, the enclosement, the messiness. The smell alone made it seem like Caius was there with him. As much as he disliked the old man, he found himself missing him dearly. Occasionally, he thought about sending a letter to him, but he knew that the only way to reach him was through official Blades channels. They would likely read his letter out of necessary suspicion, and Raedyn didn't want that. It would be something just between the two of them. He didn't even know what he would write, what he would talk about. He wanted to ask for advice; he wanted to know how he was handling his new position; he wanted to apologize…

He wanted to make Caius proud.

The long days weren't peaceful, but they were calm. He was rarely hungry, but he forced the food down. He was always tired, but he found no solace in the night. On the sixth day, he left the bed only to eat and empty his bladder and bowels. The hours passed neither slowly nor fast. He thought he should have been surprised to see, after turning over to look at the hourglasses he used to keep the time, that it was roughly midnight. He thought he should have been confused as to why he couldn't decide if time was going by too fast or too slow. He supposed he should have been concerned to find nothing but calm indifference within him.

_Who am I but a puppet?_ He wondered. _A puppet that is going mad._ He got out of bed, his sore, stiff, unnaturally strong body protesting with pain. He slowly put on his glass armor for the first time in weeks, dragging the seconds on to savour the wakening pain. After clipping his glass sword to his hip, he walked over to the door. There, he hesitated.

This was the point of no return. As soon as he turned that knob and took a single step, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. As mad as he felt himself becoming, he preferred the known madness awaiting him inside than the unknown fate outside. Duty failed to propel him forward, his desire to save Vvardenfell would not move his hand, and the thought of saving the Empire could not spark his resolve. Only one thought moved him forward.

He wanted to make Caius proud, and he turned the knob.

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Solitude was his only welcome companion; solitude and monotony. Step by step through playful mists, taunting his pace by obscuring the path in front of him. He did not need to see his path, for he already knew it. He knew the steps, the rocks, the dead river of lava would guide him. He knew this land as his home, the one he never had, the one he never wanted, the one he always needed. He knew where he had to go, what he needed to do.

And that scared him.

Every step he took became harder than the last, every breath became a struggle to not shutter, every stride was a defiance against his better judgement. The mists obscured and tantalized, teasing him with phantasmal fears and threats of leading him astray. They played around him, dancing to the requiem of the winds and dusts.

Every so often, he thought he saw a shadow within the mists. Every time, they turned out to be nothing but his own fabrications. Solitude and fabrications had been his only constants, even now, even back when he was a street rat. The solitude was his punishment, the fabrications were his reasons.

For the first time, he knew why he had killed that nobleman in Chorrol, all those years ago. It was not over an apple, not over humiliation. It was not his hatred for the man, but hatred for himself. He kept himself on the streets all those years. He kept himself hungry. He put himself in prison to further punish himself. He survived so the suffering would never end. After his mother died, he had no one to blame, so he blamed himself. When the precious time they could have shared together was lost to him, he blamed himself for not being a better child. He blamed himself for not letting her know how much she meant to him. He blamed himself for not acknowledging how much she had done for him. He thought his solitude was his punishment, and so he continued to enforce it on himself.

He was pitiful. He could not see himself as anything else. He was not a hero, he was a broken shell. He had no wisdom, no insights, no memories worth passing on. He wouldn't have children, he wouldn't write books, he wouldn't lead the Dunmer like the prophecies indicated. Why should he when there were so many others better suited than him. Everything he was would end with his death.

It was a death he was ready for.

This land had power. He could feel it in the ground, hear it in the voices of it's people, see it in the history of Resdayn, experience it the strength of the Ashlanders. This was his home. He no longer cared if he had freewill or not. Even if he was compelled to fight, it was the choice he would have freely made.

Slowly, the mists obscuring his path dissolved, the fear grinding his resolve faded, and the darkness passed as the sun illuminated the Ghost Gate.

End of Chapter Freaking Seventeen

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Author's Notes while dodging random things thrown: I know, this is bad, even for me. *dodges tomato* It's been over a year since I updated, and I apologize. *fails to dodge a toaster* And I know I promised many of you I would update both of the last chapters at the same time, oh shit! *dodges a knife* Okay, that's taking it too far! Alright, I'm halfway through the last chapter and-*dodges a Dodge* Okay, who throws pickup trucks!??!

The truth is, this last year has been very eventful for me, and I've had little time to really devote to my creative exploits. I moved, twice, and during most of that period I didn't have a computer. I got a job (at a porno shop no less) and was eventually fired after I screwed something up really bad, and then my Kung Fu teacher gave me a proposition. He offered to sell the school to me. You're now looking at a full time Martial Arts Instructor! Student attendance is staggeringly bad, but I'm getting by.

Also, my best friend of twenty years was forced to move back here from the other side of the US, due to circumstances that's really his business (not due to legal issues, if that's what you're thinking). So my family and I had to help him out for a few months. Then, right when he claimed things were starting to go well for him, he stole my DS, PSP, nearly $150 worth of games, and nearly $1,000 worth of jewelry from my parents. That kinda screwed me up for a while.

But things are stable for the moment, and I've recently implemented a strict regimen for myself, where I practice Kung Fu for at least one hour every morning every day, then followed by writing for one hour every day. So far things have been well. Hopefully I'll be able to finish off this last chapter fairly quickly (as in within a month)

Also, the scenes where Raedyn was preparing and going to the Ghostgate, that was based on my first playthrough. I left Caius's house at midnight, and I got to the Ghostgate right at 6 o'clock, right as it started getting light out. Going through that foyada in the dead of night really stirred something within me. The loneliness and solitude got to me, and that's what inspired me to write a fanfic, just to get to that point. Well it took me, what, three years? But I did it.


	18. Chronicle's End

**Chapter 18: Chronicle's End**

Walking through the halls of the Tower of Dusk, guided by the Buoyant Armiger grand marshal Galdal Omayn, Raedyn lost himself to the events. The moment he spoke his first words at the Ghostgate, his mind was consumed by the moment, and all fears disappeared. The moment had started, and there was nowhere to go but forward.

"We've received a surprising number of volunteers for this mission." Omayn commented. "Honestly, we were expecting far fewer. It was only this morning that we decided which were the best among them."

"Courage and strength is best brought out by necessity." Raedyn explained. Through the Moon-and-Star, he could tell those words stirred something inside Omayn that betrayed his next words.

"That's very true." Studying the images and feelings he got from the elder Dunmer, Raedyn got the feeling he had quoted Nerevar again.

Entering the commons area, Raedyn saw it packed end-to-end with warriors of every race and type. Argonian mages in enchanted robes, Altmer Battlemages, Khajiit swordsmen in heavy armor, knightly Imperials, and every variation in between. Many of them looked edgy, most of them looked at him appraisingly, and all of them looked tough enough to take on a daedroth barehanded. This was exactly what he needed.

"Where's my team?" He asked.

Omayn gave a sharp whistle and pointed toward a table with five sentients at it. The different races quickly stood and lined up. The Armiger grand marshal directed Raedyn to them. "We evaluated each warrior exhaustively, and these are the ones we determined to be the most suited."

Raedyn walked up to the first one, subconsciously keeping his posture perfect and his chin up to give a stronger impression that he was looking down at the warriors. Afterall, he was the shortest of them all. "Identify yourself." He ordered.

This warrior was a red haired Dunmer in glass pauldrons, gauntlets, and boots, while his greaves and cuirass were chitin. His face was ragged and marked with the beginnings of wrinkles despite the fact that he couldn't have been older than a hundred. "Enar Nelas, Buoyant Armiger scout, sir!" He spoke loudly and clearly.

"And why were you picked for this mission?" Raedyn asked.

"Sir, I have more experience than anyone else here exploring Red Mountain. I know the terrain, layout, structures and caves like the back of my hand. I am also ranked within the top five percent of fighters in the Buoyant Armigers." He spoke without pride, only with facts.

"Good. From here on out, you will not fight unless absolutely necessary."

Enar had a double take at that statement. "Sir?"

"Unless I'm mistaken, inside the Ghostgate there are constant Blight Storms, making it hard to find one's way, and every moment you stay you risk getting disease. Am I mistaken?"

Enar still looked confused. "No sir, you're not mistaken."

"Then we must know where we are and where we're going at all times. This makes you indispensible to the team's efficiency. Unless I tell you otherwise, you will leave as much of the fighting to the rest of us as you can, am I clear?"

Enar managed to keep his visage under control, though through the Moon-and-Star, Raedyn could see his ego was deflated. Moving on to the next one, he found himself looking at an Imperial in Templar armor with a thick, enchanted hoplon shield, black hair with a square face, he was approaching his middle years. "And you?"

"Turonimus Toutious, I am a Kinsman in Hlaalu and a Knight by trade, specializing in illusion and restoration." He explained, keeping his eyes forward. Raedyn didn't need his ring to tell him the Imperial didn't like him.

"Explain to me how that will help the group?" Raedyn ordered.

At that, Toutious looked him in the eye as he explained. "I use illusion magic to riot the emotions of the enemy into focusing on me." He held up his shield for emphasis, "And no one has managed to even scratch me after I acquired this. And I can also do temporary on-field healing of most wounds as well as remedy diseases, poisons and other ailments."

Through the ring, Raedyn could tell Toutious's disrespectful tone was affecting the others, giving them doubts about him. He nodded and said, "Good. Those are well needed skills."

Moving on, he found himself forced to look up to a monster of a Nord in Nordic Fur Armor. He had a prominent scar running between his gray eyes, and his dark brown hair was swept back and clean, something Raedyn didn't think he'd ever seen in a Nord. "Your turn. Impress me."

"Jormundr. Jormundr the Boring some call me. I am a Warlock within the Mage's Guild, and technically I'm a battlemage, but in reality, I'm a Voice Master."

Through the Moon-and-Star, Raedyn could tell the man had an almost playful expectation that he would not know what that was. He was glad Caius explained this unusual method of magic to him. "So, not only do you know the Way of the Voice, but you're a Tongue as well?" _Not as ignorant as you thought, right?_ He thought when he saw Jormundr's expression. "I've never worked with the Thu'um before, so we'll go over the breadth of your abilities later. I assume you can be your own siege machine?"

The Nord's chest swelled somewhat with pride. "Of course."

Raedyn nodded, took a step toward the next party member, but stopped and said, "Just out of curiosity, why do 'some' call you 'the Boring'?"

"Because it's more general than 'Jormundr the Sober'."

Raedyn cocked an eyebrow. "You're sober? As in usually?"

Surprisingly, the Nord seemed to beam with pride even more. "Not just usually, I'm proud to say that of my five-and-thirty years of life, I've never once been inebriated."

Now that's something he'd _never_ heard of in a Nord. "Why?"

"Is there not pride to be found in having self restraint? In being self sufficient enough to not need alcohol to have a good time?" He asked, looking Raedyn in the eye with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

The Dunmer smirked and said, "I like you." He reached his hand up, and casually patted the Nord on the shoulder hard enough to drive him to his knees. Through the Moon-and-Star, he felt as well as saw the surprise from everyone in the room at the display of strength. He could tell their doubts about him lessened somewhat.

The next warrior up was dressed in unusual armor that looked to be made half out of silvery metal and half out of ice. "And you?" He asked the Altmer.

"Telasor, Spellwright of the Telvanni and Defender of the Fighter's Guild." He answered.

Raedyn cocked a brow. "Those are very different organizations."

Telasor shrugged, nonchalantly, though Raedyn could tell through the Moon-and-Star that he was rather nervous and his thoughts were racing. "To me, magic and blade should be one in combat. The Mage's Guild focuses too much on academics and not enough in practical applications for my taste."

Raedyn crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. "And why are you here, rather than serving your Telvanni masters or assisting the Fighter's Guild with their peace keeping supply efforts?"

Again, Telasor shrugged, and Raedyn could see through his façade. "They both asked me to volunteer, so here I am."

Raedyn could tell that statement was true, but he could also see that Telasor was as impatient as he was bold. No matter what the situation was, he had to be doing something, and the more dire a situation, the more important it was for him to be involved. This was a mer who succeeded through overachieving due to insecurity. He kept note of this incase it created problems for the group.

The last one was a Dunmer in Chitin armor. "You know the drill."

"Nelan Asharamatuapizizi. I am House Cousin within Redoran." He spoke slowly, but with a strong Vvardenfell accent.

"You're Redoran, and yet you're also an Ashlander?" Raedyn questioned.

He could tell from the visions provided by the Moon-and-Star that this Nelan's thoughts were quick, direct, and unconflicted. "Erabenimsun; I am working to expand our horizons."

"And that's all the explanation I'll get, right?"

"There is nothing more to tell." The Ashlander answered indifferently.

"Very well." He stepped away from the group to look at them all at the same time. "Grand Marshal Omayn, I'll accept them." He eyed the group, and paced in front of them, analyzing them all, sizing them up. "All of you are different, different races, different factions, different abilities. We may all be here for different reasons, but we will work together as one. The moment we pass the Ghostgate, you will leave behind your grudges and misgivings. While we are together, there's only one enemy: House Dagoth. Between the six of us, we represent every power within Morrowind: the three Great Houses, the Ashlanders, the Guilds and the Tribunal." _And the Empire and Blades_, he silently added, but didn't speak it. "Never before in Resdayn's history have all these powers combined for such an undertaking. If we can fight together, then maybe more great things can come from such fellowship." That last part was intended for everyone in the room, not just his team.

"According to the Prophecy, only I can take down Dagoth Ur. But to do that, I'll need your help in taking down his seven Ash Vampires and acquiring certain artifacts from them; after which, you will choose your fate. You may continue on with me, or leave without fear of reprisal, I will not stop you." He turned away from them, and lifted his right hand, flexing his fingers into a fist, feeling Wraithguard adjust to his hand. "You have three hours to prepare, rest, pray, or whatever else you wish to do. In three hours, we leave. Be prepared."

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Raedyn walked through the door into the Temple area, and after a few steps, he heard a familiar voice speak up from beside the door frame; unsurprisingly, he had walked right past Farens without even realizing it. "I'm not coming along, am I?"

"I was coming to inform you of a task I'd like you to perform." Raedyn said, quietly slipping the Moon-and-Star down his finger enough to where its magicks didn't work on him. He didn't want to manipulate the Morag Tong operative unfairly.

"And why am I not coming with you?" His voice was outwardly calm, but still demanding.

"Your talents are better served elsewhere." Raedyn explained in a direct manner. He knew before meeting up with Farens that the older Mer wasn't going to like being left out. "I need you now, more than ever, to be my blade out of sight. I need you and Eno Hlaalu to use whatever resources are available to the Morag Tong to maintain the status quo with the Great Houses. With Red Mountain regularly erupting, the Blightstorms, the Tribunal telling people the truth, there will undoubtedly be people who will try to profit from the ensuing chaos, maybe even seizing power."

"And you want us to take down those who would oppose you?" Farens said, a slight undercurrent of disdain in his voice.

"No, I want leaders and peace keepers, not tyrants. Inform your grandmaster that I ask him to use the utmost discretion when acting, and leave direct assassination as a last resort."

"And you're giving me this task because I'm weak, that the Blightstorms would destroy me." Farens added.

Raedyn subdued his rising frustration. Part of him knew that Farens was right. "I'm giving you this task because there's no one I trust more than you right now. Victory against Dagoth Ur will mean nothing, less than nothing, if we return to a Morrowind at war with itself. To be completely honest, Farens Dren, I'd give anything to be in your shoes right now. You think I want the future of Morrowind in my hands? I'd gladly hand them off to someone else if I could. I don't have much of a choice in the matter, just like you don't have much of a choice in your health or manner of fighting. Besides, as cold as it sounds, those mercenaries are expendable in this task; they'll help but they aren't necessary. I _need_ you to do this for me, or else everything we've done up until this point might end up being for nothing."

Farens didn't break his gaze, and he didn't seem any less angry when he eventually said, "I'll do as you command."

"It's not a command, Farens." Raedyn said. "It's a request. I'd feel better if you were voluntarily doing this rather than because I ordered you to. You want to be my knife in the dark? A true warrior treats his weapon as a partner, not a tool."

Farens closed his eyes to calm himself. "Fine, I'll do this for you." He opened his eyes. "I'll be your knife in the dark as you'll be a shield in the light. Just don't break out there."

Raedyn harrumphed with a smirk. "Don't you know anything about smithing? Tempering metal with hammer and fire makes it stronger."

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Securing the pack on his back, wondering for the third time if it was a good idea to bring along the Scroll of Icarian Flight with him, Raedyn checked his armor for the fourth time, then marched out of the room he was assigned, and met up with his team outside the Ghostgate. They looked anxious, even a little nervous. Raedyn disguised a deep breath to calm his own nerves, knowing he would have to be the unmoving stone in the group, the example that would calm the others.

He walked up to the group and said, "Once we pass through that gate, we're not coming back until our mission is over. This is your last chance to take care of any unfinished business. I'll wait."

No one in the group spoke up. All of them looked ready to fight Oblivion itself without reservation. Seeing the look in their eyes, Raedyn knew every one of them were ready to die on this mission. And he was determined to make sure all of them survived.

"Alright then." As he walked toward the mouth of the Ghostgate, he felt a rumbling in the earth. It was subtle, but very noticeable. He looked down the Ghostgate's maw, and saw a wall of red dust moving toward him very quickly. He put his hand on his longsword to keep it in place, refusing to move. _You won't win, Dagoth Ur._

The Blightstorm hit the Ghostfence, and blew through the Ghostgate with a roar like nothing he'd ever heard before, hitting him like a stampede of horses. Had he not braced himself a moment before it hit, he would have been thrown onto his back. He wanted to cough, wanted to gag and wipe at his eyes, yet he dared not. If he showed fear or weakness toward this storm, his team wouldn't dare face it with him. Tentatively, he took a step forward, then another and another.

"Everyone get behind me." He ordered. He may not have been as big as Jormundr, or anyone else in the group, but he would still be a significant buffer against the storm for them. And if they were going to get to the top of the mountain, whoever would be at the front of the group would tire out the most. With his strength and stamina, he was the best pick. Through the Moon-and-Star, he could tell the men and mer were lining up behind him, and felt their determination in the face of fear.

Without word, he marched forward, and his team followed him.

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Once they were a mile within the Ghostfence, the Blightstorm had calmed just enough for Raedyn to notice a rocky overlay that formed a six-foot-deep cave that was thirty feet wide. "To the right!" He yelled. He could feel through the Moon-and-Star that the others heard him. They coordinated their movements enough to where Raedyn was always directly upwind from them until he reached the cave, where the team filed in and quickly sat on the ground, tired from the trek and fighting with the storm. Raedyn didn't join them on the ground, but he did lean against the rock. He pulled a handkerchief from his pack and wiped his face of the sweat, and noticed that it came away completely red. He was glad none of the others had gotten a good look at his red-dust covered face, or else there would have been jokes at his expense.

"Turonimus," he called out, "pass out water, rations, and stamina spells as needed. Telasor, heal whomever you can of the Blight. Enar, grab a map and help me decide a route." The three immediately got to their assignments, with Enar pulling out a map and grabbing a couple pairs of small rocks. When the Bouyant Armiger reached him, he used the rocks to keep the map on the ground. The wind within the cave was nothing compared to the storm outside, but it was enough that it could easily fly out and into the storm, where it would be irretrievable.

With Enar on the ground, panting lightly, Raedyn decided to join him cross legged. "We're approximately here," Enar pointed out on the map, "we haven't yet reached any passes that take us to other parts of the mountain, so we need to know where to search."

Raedyn closed his eyes and reached out with the Moon-and-Star. He felt a great presence within the mountain, something huge and malicious and fractured, a mind no longer together. Upon closer examination, he felt two different entities within that presence, one of which was sentient and the other was not so much a conscience as it was a large blank slate.

Turning his attention elsewhere on the mountain, he felt several other presences that were similar to what inhabited the mountain, but far more subdued. He couldn't see the shape of the mountain, only the direction and distance to each presence.

"I need a compass, and does this map have something to tell me distance?" Enar pulled a small compass out of his pocket, and pointed to a scale bar in the lower left of the map. Feeling the distance to the nearest Ash Vampire, Raedyn used the compass to get his bearings, and pointed to the approximate location along a line. He could tell how far it was as if he could see it with his eyes, but that was still estimating. "Anything around here? Ruin, tomb?"

"Dwemer fortress." Enar stated. "I'll just mark the ruin itself."

The two of them continued like that for five minutes, Raedyn getting the approximate location of the Ash Vampires, and Enar marking them. Some of them were on or near ruins or tombs, while a few were far from anything marked on the map. When they were done, Raedyn looked over the group. He was surprised that after only a few minutes rest, they looked ready for another trek.

"Alright, everyone back on your feet."

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Raedyn crouched down and kept his breathing quiet as he watched the strange creature down in the room below them. This creature, this Ash Vampire, was tall and sinewy, wearing what could barely be considered a loincloth and a strange headdress. It was praying at a small Dagoth shrine.

Raedyn leaned over and whispered to Jormundr as quietly as he could, not sure how acute the creature's hearing was, "Tell Enar to fire arrows ten seconds after I engage it, preferably with its back to him, and Telasor to use a spell to knock it off balance immediately after. Tell Turonimus and Nelan to engage right after that in case it survives."

Jormundr nodded, then took a deep breath, trying to be quiet while doing it, and used the Voice to convey the message to the others on the other side of the room, also using a perch to spy on the creature. Despite being less than a foot away from Jormundr as he did it, Raedyn could barely hear a whisper, while he knew the others heard him clearly.

He stood up and walked down the stairs, trying to be quiet while doing it. Glass armor may have been mostly metal, but it was surprisingly quiet. He pulled out his glass long sword slowly, making as little noise as he could, and inched toward the creature. When he got within striking distance, he lifted his sword above his head, aiming at the creature's skull.

Reacting purely on instinct, he jumped back right as the Ash Vampire turned around, swinging its razor-like claws at him. The creature took a leap at him, swinging its claws again, and this time, Raedyn countered the attack by swinging his sword at the monster's hand, aiming to take off its fingers. At the last moment, the fingers bent back, so far that they should have broken every tendon in them, causing the sword to hit nothing but air. The moment the swing was complete, the fingers bent back to where they should have been.

Raedyn used the momentum of his sword strike to swing his body around to use the kick that Caius had taught him all those months ago. The Ash Vampire tried to block with its forearm, but the bones broke, and the kick collided with its head with virtually no loss in power. The creature went flying ten feet away before slamming into a wall, but landed on all fours as if the attack did nothing to him, despite that part of its face was now missing.

Suddenly, an arrow shot through its chest, quickly followed by three more. "Sorry," Enar called out, "couldn't wait."

With the Ash Vampire distracted by the man's voice, a massive bolt of lightning hit the ground under the monster, which rebounded up and flung it high into the air with electricity sizzling over its body. While airborne, Enar shot another arrow into it. Again, it landed gracefully on the ground, and leapt at Raedyn, only for Turonimus to get in front him at the last second and raised his large shield. A terrible noise shrieked through the room as the Ash Vampire's claws raked against the metal.

Raedyn barely caught a glance as the creature nimbly leapt over them and landed behind them. Time seemed to slow as he spun around as fast as he could to bring his sword to bear on the creature. When his eyes could finally see it, he saw its claw would reach him before his sword could defend him.

A moment before the claw reached him, a very large blur rammed into the Ash Vampire, taking it with him as Raedyn noticed the trademark shouts of the Voice. The blur drove the Ash Vampire into a stone statue, breaking it into several pieces.

Raedyn recoiled as he saw Jormundr leaping back to get some distance between himself and the Ash Vampire, now with its entire chest crushed. With its skeletal structure compromised, it was having trouble moving. Suddenly, Nelan fell on its back, driving it to the ground with his sword through its chest, nailing it to the floor.

Raedyn took the opportunity while Nelan had it incapacitated and cut off the creature's head. After a little effort, the Ashlander pulled his sword out of the ground, and was about to wipe it off when he noticed there was nothing to wipe off the sword. He muttered something about 'abomination' as he sheathed it.

Raedyn took a deep breath and said to the group, "Well, that wasn't so-"

Everyone in the room instantly got ready for another fight as the monster's body got back on its feet, without its head. Everybody tensed with anticipation of what it would do, but it just stood there for a moment before it started walking around. Everyone moved out of the way, giving it plenty of room while avoiding the head as well. After a minute, the body slowly walked into a wall, took a step back after bouncing off it, then stepped into it again. After a few more minutes of this, the body fell over and stayed still.

It was a tense five minutes before the group relaxed. Nelan swore under his breath in Ehlnofex, and Telasor examined the body with a glowing hand. "The soul was fused to the body." He said after a minute. "Normally, it acts through the brain to control the body. This is similar to some high level necromantic techniques. You can relax, its dead for good now."

Everyone visibly relaxed, but no one put away their weapons.

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Later that night, they sat around a campfire at the bottom of a tower in a second Dwemer ruin. They had managed to take out a second Ash Vampire, but Nelan was seriously wounded. Their morale was shaken, their confidence on the rocks. They all expected the mountain to test them, they didn't expect the Ash Vampires to be so tough. Within the span of a day, all but Raedyn were physically exhausted, and all were mentally worn out.

_This isn't going well._ He thought. _They're all afraid. I need to give them something to put them at ease._

"I told my son I'd buy him a wooden carving of a horse." Nelan mentioned, out of the blue, in his slow manner. "I promised him I'd bring one from the settlements when I visited the camp next."

"I'll do that." Raedyn responsively said. "If you don't make it back, I'll do this for you."

Nelan looked surprised at this, then brought his eyes back to the flame. "If you could…could you…also tell my wife…that I did everything I could. That I did well. She'll know what I mean."

"Sure." Raedyn said.

"If he doesn't make it back," Jormundr said to Nelan, "I'll do it instead."

"What about you?" Raedyn asked. "Any last requests just in case?"

"Huh?" Jormundr was taken off guard by the question. He scratched his head in nervousness. "I didn't really have any unfinished business, no family or anything."

"I see." Raedyn said.

"Wait, actually," Jormundr said, but hesitated, "uh, well, there was something I had hoped to do someday, when I conjured up the courage to actually do it."

"I'll do it." Raedyn promised. "Anything."

Jormundr scratched the back of his head again, showing unusual nervousness. "Well, I trained mostly in the Imperial College of the Voice in Markarth, but for a time I was trained by the Greybeards in High Hrothgar, atop the Throat of the World."

Raedyn whistled softly. Caius mentioned how rare it was for the legendary Greybeards to actually teach Tongues who followed the arts of war.

"There was this one Greybeard, Albest, who did nothing but give me impossible tasks, and scold and punish me when I couldn't complete them. I swear, I didn't learn anything from that little…anyway, I just wanted to go back there one day and knock his block off."

"Sure. Would you like me to mention you before I deck him, or should I leave a note before I run for my life?" Raedyn added.

Jormundr laughed. "That half-blind, near senile old fool is too proud and full of himself to ever see a punch coming. Go ahead and mention me first. Before he goes on a rant about how he's not surprised I couldn't take down a demi-god."

Raedyn nodded, then looked to the others. "Any other requests?" Some of them were hesitant at first, but eventually they all confessed their last wishes to him, and to each other, and they promised that whoever survived would carry out the wishes of the fallen.

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Raedyn limped down the halls, his breath haggard, the tip of his sword scraping against the ground behind him with Keening and Sunder attached to his belt. He was the last one. All the others were gone. With Nelan still healing and acting as a second marksman, the third Ash Vampire proved too much for the group to deal with. As the creature was about to kill Turonimus, Nelan joined the fray and nearly tackled it before it regained its balance. Unable to avoid the counterattack, Nelan took the creature's claws through his chest, and used that to hold it in place as Raedyn cut the monster to pieces.

Telasor was next, as he was forced to fight the fourth Ash Vampire with his quarterstaff as it picked him out of the group and used a powerful reflect spell. He passed away with Turonimus desperately trying to save him with Restoration magic He had begged them not to let him die, that he wasn't ready.

The fifth Ash Vampire used spells that disintegrated weapons, and eventually broke through Turonimus' shield, severing his arm. The rest of the team managed to defeat it without him, and he used spells to stop the bleeding, but with the blood loss, he said he would only be a liability. Enar and Jormundr, even Raedyn offered to take him back to Ghostgate, but he stubbornly refused, saying he either would make it back alone, or not at all. Either way, he wasn't going to slow down the mission.

So they parted ways there, Raedyn's crew going across the mountain, and Turonimus feebly moving down the mountain, despite the weakness and pain. No one mentioned it, but they all knew: he would never survive the Blightstorms, not with his wounds.

Shortly afterward, Enar contracted the Black-Heart Blight, and his condition got bad quickly. With just Raedyn and Jormundr against the sixth Ash Vampire in a Dwemer ruin, they faired very poorly. Both got badly injured, and didn't expect to survive. Jormundr stopped him from attacking the creature at one point, and said, "Thank you for that promise, but it's okay if you don't keep it." He then used a shout which caused a powerful current of air to carry him back to the entrance to the fortress, leaving Jormundr and the Ash Vampire alone. As soon as Raedyn got back on his feet, he heard a deafening shout rock the entire fortress, and he got out just before the entire thing collapsed in on itself. Shortly after, he used the Moon-and-Star to confirm that the Ash Vampire, and Jormundr, were gone.

And as they made their way to one of the main paths running up the length of the mountain, Enar collapsed, unable to go on. He told Raedyn that, even if he were carried, he wouldn't last long enough to make it back to the Ghostgate. He begged Raedyn to ease his suffering, and after a long time of hesitation, he reluctantly made it as quick as he could.

He was the last one. He carried the wishes of those who fought for him, who died for his mission, his destiny. He had fought the last Ash Vampire on his own, leaving him with several cracked ribs, burn scars, and four long lacerations on his left leg.

Slowly, bronze halls gave way to rocky earth as the Citadel went deeper into Red Mountain. He wasn't aware how long he had trekked, he wasn't aware when he stopped, he only knew when he found Dagoth Ur in front of him. What once was a Chimer was now as ashen as his servants, his head encased in a golden mask. This was not the elegant creature that had visited him in his dreams, this was a monster, outwardly the same as he was inside.

"Once, we were friends." It said. "I had thought about asking you to join me, so we could be what we once were. But it's too late for that, isn't it?"

Raedyn breathed slowly, deeply, feeling sweat running down his face, making lines through the filth. His armor was broken in places, scratched and scorched in others. His shield was long abandoned as useless, and his sword's edges were littered with dents and chips. He was exhausted, his mind a haze, and his body ached. He had no illusions about surviving this encounter. "You're the one who pushed it this far."

"Did I not do exactly what you asked?" Dagoth Ur asked with distain. "Did I not protect Kagrenac's Tools? I protected them; you, and those fools who built their religion on your corpse, betrayed me."

"You've lost yourself to whatever influence remained after Lorkhan's death." Raedyn stated. "You're just a perverted echo of a formerly honorable sorcerer, long lost and dead, replaced by a twisted reflection."

"Nerevar," Dagoth Ur said, almost mournfully, "had he not trusted those two fools and been seduced by that woman he would have understood me. He would have joined me."

"You're alone, Dagoth." Raedyn said. "You cannot see past yourself, that is why you spread your power into others through Corprus, so no matter how many are around you, you'll always see just yourself."

"You're alone too, Raedyn Otheril." Dagoth Ur said. "You came here to my mountain with five others, yet only you remain. Your allies are gone; no one is here with you. Everyone who followed you either abandoned you, you abandoned them, or they're dead. You see, we're all alone, no matter what we do. The only certainty in the future is death, and in death we're all alone. Join with me, become me, and never be alone anymore."

"I am not alone. My companions gave me their last wishes, they live on through me. What my mentor taught me, by following his path, I walk alongside him. Vvardenfell is consumed with fear, and I give them hope. I _am_ the hope of Morrowind. I am _not_ alone!"

Dagoth Ur gave off a bestial roar as raw magicka radiated from him. Within a heartbeat, he was surrounded by numerous magical shields, a Dremora Lord, a Fire Atronach, a Hunger, and an Ogrim.

Raedyn gave off a war cry as he charged. He leapt over the Hunger and Dremora Lord, and swung his sword at Dagother Ur. Striking the shields felt like striking near-solid resin, slowing his sword down considerably enough to where Dagoth Ur was able to get away with a cut only a few inches deep across his chest. Raedyn instantly used the momentum of the swing to bring the sword behind him and only his back, blocking the daedric claymore that would have cleaved right through his armor. The impact still sent him reeling, his sword now bent and the armor of his back dented.

He recovered in time to see the Ogrim charging him, and he jumped in the air, over its bulbous belly, and punched it in the head. The skull broke open like a jar of jelly, coating Wraithguard. He then jumped off the daedra, leaping toward the Dremora Lord. Their swords connected, but Raedyn's greater strength made his strike continue forward with speed until the blade connected with the creature's shoulder, denting the daedric armor in a way that must have been painful for the Dremora Lord.

He then hit the daedra with a quick punch across the face. It was done so quick that Raedyn couldn't put nearly as much power behind it as he could have, but it still sent the Dremora Lord into the wall. Suddenly, he felt searing pain course through his body as he was launched into the air by a lightning spell cast by Dagoth Ur. He flew into the Ash Statues over a vent, and found the steam hot enough that it was burning him. As soon as he pushed himself off the vent, he was hit by a red and black bolt to the chest by the Hunger. The attack didn't seem to do anything to him, until he noticed that his cuirass was melting. In a panic, he reached into the side fold of his armor, and ripped the front completely off, causing the back to fall off as well.

Through the pain, he was able to leap at the Hunger, his sword cleaving it from shoulder, through its spine, to its stomach. Right at the time of impact, however, the Hunger cast another disintegration spell, and the moment Raedyn pulled the sword out, most of it was melted off.

Instinct alone had him duck and roll away as a fire spell flew over his head, and he pulled out Keening and used telekinesis to throw it into the Fire Atronach's head, just like he had with the kagouti all those months and a lifetime ago.

Before he could pull Sunder from its loop on his belt, the Dremora Lord attacked again. Acting almost without thought, Raedyn rushed forward, and grabbed the daedra's hands before they could swing the claymore down. He then turned and flipped the Dremora Lord over his hip, pulled the claymore out of its hands, and cut off its head.

Holding the daedric claymore with one hand easily, Raedyn turned around to face wherever Dagoth Ur had gone. He barely saw the powerful fire spell before it hit him in the chest, throwing him back against the wall with enough force to dull him to the pain. He fell onto his stomach, the world spinning around and going dead silent. He became increasingly aware of an incredible pain in his chest, knowing that his shirt was completely gone, and probably most of the skin and muscle on his chest. He was dying.

As he lay with his cheek against the dirty rock, he saw Dagoth Ur step up to him. A hand grabbed his arm and roughly turned him onto his back. He found himself staring up at the Sharmat looming over him. He seemed to be looking at Raedyn's chest. When he followed the gaze Raedyn instantly wished he hadn't. He could see the burnt bones of his ribcage, and the still smoldering ruins of his intestines and stomach.

"You may have defeated me when I was a fledgling deity, but I have long since surpassed you. And now, you shall die alone, as all do."

Through the pain and delirium, Raedyn became aware of a burning on his left ring finger. The Moon-and-Star was growing white-hot, yet it did not burn him. He felt different, like something fundamental about him had changed. It felt like how he had when he managed to cast an Absorb Magic spell, a skill Tyermaillin tried to teach him, saying it would augment his natural ability to absorb magic from being born under the sign of the Atronach, but he was never able to really grasp the skill. However, this felt magnitudes greater than what he normally felt, and he didn't feel any impact on his magicka reserves.

He reached up, and grabbed Dagoth Ur's ankle, and felt magicka, strange and powerful, flow into him. The Sharmat doubled over as if in pain, and Raedyn felt all the pain in his torso disappear. He looked down, and saw bone, organ and skin reforming. Within seconds, his chest was back to what it had been before.

Dagoth Ur kicked Raedyn's hand away, and stepped back in shock. Raedyn slowly got to his feet, and felt a rush of…something, something so powerful and potent that it might as well have been an avalanche. His mind felt overcome by a darkness, without source or cause, and he instinctually knew what it was. All sapient life on Nirn knew of this power as the memory of him was ingrained into all life for creating the mortal world: Lorkhan.

This darkness wasn't a lingering sentiment, or a drive toward evil, or a remainder of his will, it was simply what remained of his mind, as even dead gods dreamed. It threatened to overtake him, to consume him, to fracture who and what he was.

Then he felt the others. Thousands of others, all thinking of him. Through the Moon-and-Star, he felt the prayers of all Morrowind. He was legion, and Lorkhan's influence was held at bay.

He looked at Dagoth Ur and saw distress in his body language. "No, only _I_ can handle this power! How are you not destroyed?" He then threw a powerful fireball, as large as a Nord was tall, and the moment it touched Raedyn, it sank into his body, becoming one with his magicka. "What is this? How is this possible?" He fired several more, and Raedyn felt the spells absorb perfectly into his own magicka reserves.

"All my life my body has been able to absorb some of the magicka used on it." Raedyn said. "Now, through the Moon-and-Star, I can feel the prayers of all of Morrowind, their prayers perfect my ability to absorb magic." He looked Dagoth in the eye, through the mask, and knew the former mer was feeling fear for the first time in a long time. "I told you already, I am not alone. I am the _hope_ of Morrowind!"

Dagoth Ur screamed as he leapt forward, his claws lashing out. Raedyn caught his hand, and punched him in the chest hard enough to crush his ribcage. The Sharmat then swung his other arm, unperturbed by his injury. Raedyn similarly caught the arm, then struck the arm, breaking the humerus bone. He then pulled hard on the arm, driving Dagoth Ur off balance, then twisted the arm until the broken bone pierced the skin before putting his foot against Dagoth's hip, then pushed away until the arm ripped off.

Again, Dagoth Ur didn't seem bothered by his injury. Raedyn saw magick flowing through the former Chimer's body and saw the torn arm starting to regenerate. He leapt forward, striking Dagoth across the face, causing the metal mask to cave in enough to where no one would be able to wear it without killing themselves. He then put his hand on Dagoth's chest, and absorbed the magicka flowing into him. Dagoth desperately tried to pry Raedyn off him, but to no avail. He then used a powerful telekinesis spell to try and repel the Dunmer off him, which was simply absorbed by his body.

Dagoth Ur's attempts to get Raedyn off him got weaker and weaker until he couldn't support his own weight. Then, suddenly his body turned to ash in Raedyn's arms. Raedyn took a few steps back, and felt Dagoth Ur's soul through the Moon-and-Star.

"You won't get rid of me that easily." A disembodied voice declared. "I've delved further into Lorkhan's power than you can comprehend! You may destroy my body, like you did all those centuries ago, but you can't destroy my soul."

"I have a soul trap spell that disagrees with you." Raedyn said back, despite not having any soul gems.

The voice laughed. "Go ahead, it will only delay the inevitable completion of my masterpiece."

"Masterpiece? Are your Corprus beasts not horrible enough that you need to make art on the side?"

"Come and look. I think you'll be impressed."

Raedyn looked around, and saw a large Dwemer-style door he hadn't noticed earlier. As he walked toward it, he said, "It better not be of phallic design, or your next death will be even more painful." He opened the door and walked through. He found himself in a massive chamber, stiflingly hot and humid with the smell of brimstone and other nasty vapors. And in the center of the chamber, with a land bridge leading to it, stood a massive statue, with an exposed ribcage and an either gouged out or incomplete stomach. After a moment, he realized it wasn't a statue, it was a construct: a golem!

"Behold, Akulakhan! A golem to rival the Numidium!"

Raedyn's mind raced with this revelation. This was Dagoth Ur's trump card! The original Numidium was Tiber Septim's greatest weapon, the very thing that allowed him to overthrow Aldmeri dominance. If Dagoth Ur used it, it wouldn't be a tool used to make tactical strikes and to bargain with, it would be used as a tool for wanton destruction. Dagoth Ur wouldn't just drive outsides from Morrowind, he was going to wage genocide against all of Tamriel!

"Young fool, I've sealed the exit to this chamber." Raedyn turned, and heard loud locks clicking into place with the door. "In here, Recall and Intervention spells do not work. You can destroy my body however many times you please, I will always come back. But you, when your body dies you'll be gone. I have you right where I want you, my old friend."

Raedyn felt a teleportation spell behind him, and he saw Dagoth Ur, fully formed, appear. "Not the best way to treat an old friend, old friend." Raedyn said, then pulled Sunder out, and swung it one handed, crushing and taking off Dagoth Ur's head.

"Those are," Dagoth Ur's voice came back at once, panicked "you have Sunder and Keening!"

Raedyn took off at a run, making a dash toward the bridge leading toward the Akulakhan. "You didn't think I came here without a plan, did you?" He leapt off a cliff edge, and landed on the bridge leading to the heart nearly a hundred feet below, rolling upon impact.

"NO!" Dagoth Ur screamed, reforming in his path. Raedyn swatted him aside, and off the bridge into the lava below, without breaking stride. There, in Akulakhan's chest cavity laid the Heart of Lorkhan.

He pulled out Sunder, and swung it at the heart. He half expected the heart to explode from the force he put behind the swing, but the weapon went right through the Heart as if it were merely an illusion. However, the Heart was now surrounded by a sphere of glass-like hexagons. Discarding Sunder, Raedyn pulled Keening out of its sheath.

"NO!" Raedyn turned around, grabbed Dagoth Ur by the throat as the former Chimer stabbed him through the chest with his claws. Raedyn simply drew out a little more of Lorkhan's power from Dagoth, healing his wounds, and threw his nemesis to the far side of the bridge before striking the heart with Keening.

The hexagons surrounding the seemed to shatter at first, but it looked more like the heart itself and everything around it was splintering, as if it were a reflection in a broken mirror. He struck again, and the fracturing got worse. Two more times, and the image of a heart was no longer recognizable.

"NO!" Dagoth Ur screamed, just inches behind Raedyn. He struck it again, this time, the image broke up, each fragment breaking up into smaller pieces which themselves broke up until it became like dust, and was gone.

For a moment, there was silence, nothing seemed to happen. Suddenly, Red Mountain rumbled, and both Raedyn and Dagoth Ur screamed in pain. Bright blue magicka violently blasted from their bodies as the chamber trembled. Massive boulders fell from the ceiling as Akulakhan started falling apart. The bridge they stood on broke apart and started to sink in to the lava below. However, five feet before the bridge they stood on could be consumed by the lava, the rock's buoyancy balanced out, lifting the two thrashing bodies back in the air, then falling down again until evening out into a bobble.

After seemingly an eternity, the pain receded, and through the burning heat, Raedyn looked up and saw Dagoth Ur struggling to stand up on their little rocky island in the middle of the lava pit. As he tried to stand up himself, he found his body was incredibly weak.

No, it wasn't weak, it just wasn't strong like it used to be.

"It's gone." Dagoth Ur mutter, despair in his voice. "It's gone, it's all gone!"

By destroying the Heart of Lorkhan, he had taken away Dagoth Ur's power, and by taking them away, he took away the power source of the Corprus disease. Not only that, but all the magicka in their bodies were taken along with Lorkhan's power. They were both mortal, and equally vulnerable. Raedyn stood up, and saw Dagoth Ur stand up to face him, calm fury evident in his stance. It was all or nothing.

Dagoth charged, and Raedyn followed suit. Raedyn bent over to go for the tackle. Their bodies collided, and Dagoth Ur tried to get his arm around Raedyn's neck. Before he could do that, Raedyn grabbed Dagoth's thigh, and using the leverage, lifted the former Chimer in the air and slammed him onto the ground with Raedyn's shoulder in his stomach. Dagoth then kneed the young Dunmer in the head, disorienting him. He then sat up and punched Raedyn in the face. He fell onto his back, and Dagoth quickly got up and kneeled over him, punching him in the face. Raedyn held his forearms in front of his face, trading blows to his face for blows to his arms. He then lifted his legs up, wrapped them around Dagoth Ur's waist, and pulled him away onto his back.

As Raedyn scrambled to his knees, he saw Dagoth also getting up. He quickly scooted forward, using the momentum to spin on one knee to deliver a roundhouse kick to Dagoth's masked face. It may not have connected with the mer's face directly, but hitting the mask still sent him reeling back off balance.

Raedyn rolled back to put some distance between them, and as Dagoth Ur started to stand up, he grabbed a rock twice the size of his fist and threw it as hard as he could at the Sharmat's head. The rock bounced off, knocking him back to the ground while denting the mask. Raedyn then ran up and started kicking the downed opponent.

After taking several kicks, Dagoth grabbed Raedyn's leg, and rolled over, forcing the Dunmer to jump over him in order to not get tripped. He then found himself stumbling toward the edge of the rock. He managed to stop in time, though he teetered on the edge for a second. He then took a step back and braced for the tackle he knew would be coming. Dagoth Ur tried to push him over the side, but Raedyn dug his feet into the ground too well.

The Sharmat then pushed himself back to arm's length from Raedyn, pulled his right hand back while pushing with his left hand, and brought his open hand up to Raedyn's face. Nothing happened. He heard a grunt of frustration as Dagoth Ur pulled his hand back and tried to turn it into a punch. _Lorkhan's power mixed with our magicka, and when I destroyed the Heart it took the power, and our magicka away with it. But why is his magicka not regenerating?_

Raedyn deflected the punch and used the motion to drive a punch into Dagoth Ur's solar plexus. The ancient mer doubled over, and the younger mer wrapped his arm around his neck to keep him in a doubled over state. He then started dropping his elbow into Dagoth's back over and over while trying to swing him around toward the edge.

The Sharmat dropped to his knees to increase his traction and reduce Raedyn's leverage. He tried to knee Dagoth in the face, but was taken off balance as he was pushed onto his back. Dagoth Ur scrambled up straddled Raedyn. They fought to get their arms in a better position over the other, but then Dagoth head-butted Raedyn with his mask. The hard bronze disoriented him, and he was struck with the mask again, and again, and again.

His mind started to cloud over as blood ran down his face. After a time, Dagoth Ur stood up and lifted him to his feet by his neck. He started to push Raedyn toward the edge of the rock, and Raedyn regained enough sense to try and fight back. His body felt weak, his breath was short and ragged, and he couldn't fight hard enough. Dagoth pushed him back farther and farther.

As Dagoth put Raedyn up to the edge of the rock, less than six inches from his doom, Dagoth said, "We were both born under the same sign. We both saw the rise of the First Council. We both saw it fall. In this very chamber, you defeated me. Now, I defeat you."

_That's why he couldn't use magic on me before._ Raedyn realized. _He was also born under the Atronach, his magicka doesn't regenerate!_

"Once, we might have been friends, but you never let me live down that you were the stronger, the greater in every way. Now, I will have my revenge." Whatever he was going to say after that was cut off as a daedric dagger was thrust into his stomach. "What? H-how…"

"My magicka regenerates, always has." Raedyn said, then pulled the summoned dagger out and stabbed Dagoth Ur again. After he pulled it out a second time, he swiped it across Dagoth Ur's throat. Blood gushed out, and the Sharmat feebly tried to contain the bleeding with his hands. Raedyn took a step to the side, spun around and kicked Dagoth Ur off the edge of the rock. He watched, then, as the ashen lich burned in the lava.

The dagger dissolved in his hands, and he stepped back toward the center of the rock, which was getting hotter very quickly. He bent over to grab his pack. The strap must have broken when Dagoth Ur stabbed him before he destroyed the Heart. The room as getting hotter and hotter. If he didn't get out soon, he wouldn't survive. He needed just another minute…

He started as he heard the sound of rock breaking and grinding. Part of the ceiling fell down, revealing the blue sky above. Those massive boulders crashed into the lava, creating waves that drove toward Raedyn. As a wave of lava crashed into his rock, it splashed up and onto the rock. He jumped away to the far side to avoid it, but even with nearly ten feet to spare, it felt like his legs were going to catch on fire.

There, he should have enough magicka to cast a recall spell. He tried casting it, but it felt blocked. He tried Almsivi's Intervention, and nothing happened. He tried again with Divine Intervention, and again, nothing. Dagoth Ur's sealing of the chamber still worked even after his death!

Realizing that he was too far away from any walls to jump and climb, without Recall and Intervention, he was stuck. There was no way to escape. He dropped his pack, fell to the ground, and slumped. _This is it._ He thought. _This is the end of the road._

He remembered his time as a normal, though fatherless child. He remembered his time as an orphan, unable to find a family to take him in. He remembered his time as a beggar and thief, and the indignities he suffered in the Imperial Prison. He remembered when he first arrived in Morrowind, so afraid of open spaces, unsure what to do with his newfound freedom. That seemed like so long ago, he had changed so much. Was he really that pathetic? Though it seemed like a different lifetime, he remembered the Silt Strider ride, how weird the entire experience was, the weird man who fell out of the sky…

He stopped his train of thought. _No way._ He thought. He looked down, and saw the last scroll of Icarian Flight poking out of the pack. He just _happened _to run into that crazy event on his first day, and he just _happened_ to take the scroll with him. _Azura, I take back every thing I ever said about you being incompetent._

He pulled the scroll out, ripped the string and unwound it. The lava around him started to bubble and boil, sending little bits of lava precariously close to him. He quickly poured what little magicka he had left into it. He felt the spell engraved on the scroll activating, altering his body. He looked up at the broken ceiling, squatted down, and jumped as hard as he could before a wave of lava covered the rest of the rock he stood on.

When he used the first scroll, he hadn't jumped straight up. Now, he soared up faster than he'd expected. Right as he jumped, the rest of the ceiling caved in. He cleared a rock the size of a Balmoran house with a few layers of skin on his chest to spare, and before he knew it, he was zooming by shear walls of rock as he continued to fly up at a slight angle, heading toward the circle of blue sky surrounded by red clouds, toward the crown of Red Mountain.

That was when he started to notice he was slowing down. _No, no!_ The lip of Red Mountain suddenly felt a lot farther than it had moments earlier. _Come on, just a little further! Come on._ He was definitely slowing down, and he couldn't tell if he would make the lip. If he fell short, even if he reached the wall at this angle it didn't look like he had a chance of grabbing onto anything to climb. Without Corprus, he was no stronger as strong as he would need to be.

_Come on, come ON!_ He got closer to the edge, a little closer, a little closer…

And with a jubilant whoop, he passed the edge of the Red Mountain's cap. Almost immediately afterward, however, he noticed that the ground below him was getting farther away from him than he wanted it to. He was also moving more horizontally than vertical, and the ground below him was getting farther and farther away from the highest point of Red Mountain.

_Oh come ON!_ When he finally started to fall, there was nearly forty feet of open air between him and the mountain. "Oh this is going to hurt." He muttered as he started falling faster and faster toward the rocky ground below him. His feet impacted hard, sending a painful shock from his feet all the way to his upper back. Luckily, the ground itself was more dirt than rock, and more vertical than horizontal or even diagonal. His feet ripped troughs through the mountainside as powerful winds blew the kicked up dirt into Raedyn's face. Then his butt hit the ground before his back followed as the odd rocks in the dirt cut up his legs.

His feet suddenly hit a large boulder, sending more pain through his legs as his momentum launched him forward, doing a somersault before his back hit the rock and he continued to roll down the mountainside. He continued rolling, unable to stop himself as rocks cut into his legs and back and occasionally hitting his head. Finally, he was able flop his legs down flat against the ground, allowing him to control his fall somewhat, but before he could stop completely, he went over the edge of a wall, and freefell ten feet onto solid rock.

Through the pain, he rolled over onto his back, and saw, through the dust storm, the red clouds eternally surrounding Red Mountain before passing out.

0000000000

He was awoken by a drop of water hitting his face. _What just hit me?_ He wondered. _People usually used a whole bucket of water…_

He opened his eyes, and saw a sky that was half blue and half white cloud. Right above him was a slightly darker cloud, and he felt a couple more small rain drops hit his face and chest. _It's a nice day._ He thought after a minute. _I'm really sore._ He thought a minute later. _I wonder why that is._

It slowly came back to him, his fight with Dagoth Ur, the miraculous powers the Moon-and-Star granted him, and his less than optimal escape. It was then that he remembered he was still on Red Mountain, and that there should be no blue sky above him. "The Blight Storms are gone." He said in wonder.

"Yes." Raedyn whipped around and onto his feet painfully at the voice. He found a Dunmer woman in an intricately cut white dress, with sharper features than was normal, almost more than natural.

"…Azura?" He asked after a moment.

"Yes." She said, her lips moving so slowly, so gently it almost seemed like the voice came from someone else. "The Blight Storms are over, the threat of Dagoth Ur and Akulakhan are no more, and the profane immortality of the Tribunal is gone. Our brother, Lorkhan's power is finally settling down."

"Is that what this was all about?" Raedyn asked. "Freeing Lorkhan's power?"

"No." Azura said. "This has all been about giving you free will."

"That's what you call free will? Forcing me down a messianic path?"

"If I hadn't made this path, Dagoth Ur could very well have toppled the Empire, and spread his Corprus to all of Tamriel. No one would have had free will then."

After a moment, Raedyn responded. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"But this is how far the path goes. From here on, you're free to tread your own path. Nothing is laid out before you."

Raedyn thought about that for a second, then limped over to the wall he had fallen from not too long ago, and leaned against it. "Clean slate?"

"Yes. You no longer have Corprus, for trading one immortal monarch for another would make no difference. Your life is yours to dictate as you wish."

Raedyn thought about that for a second before nodding and looking out from Red Mountain. He could make out the skeleton of the Ghostfence, now without the blue glow keeping it powered. There was no longer any reason to keep anything in, or anything out.

"Do you know what you're going to do from now on?" Azura asked.

"No." Raedyn admitted, a smirk coming to his lips. "Not yet. But you know what? I can't wait until I find out."

The End

Author's Notes: Oh my god, it's finally over! It's over, it's finally over! No more e-mails asking me to update, no more guilt, no more unfinished business. It's all over, I can finally end it.

*puts gun to head and pulls the trigger*

OUCH! That really freaking hurt, man! Next time, I'll use a real gun and not a BB gun.

Okay, so what do I want to get out of the way first, considering this is the last author's note I'll be bringing up? I guess the first thing I should get out of the way is that I'm trading fanfiction right now for Machinima. I have an account on youtube, but in typical style, I don't know when my first project will premiere. I've already got all the equipment and software I need, and I've got a few story ideas that are, more than anything, a little under-developed. If anyone wants more information or wants to be PMed when (and if) I finally get something online, just let me know.

One of the main reasons I decided to write this in the beginning, besides being inspired by the last scene in the previous chapter, is that there were a lot of novelizations back then, and few of them were any good. Most, in fact, were virtually copy/paste jobs of the scripts. No one added anything to the story. Also, in The Elder Scrolls games' novelizations, the main character always was innocent. I decided to do something different and have a main character that wasn't innocent of anything. So far, I think that's one of the things readers enjoyed most, seeing a main character who was a little more human (despite being an elf).

I actually planned forever until the scene actually came up that Farens would disobey Raedyn and sacrifice himself to finish off the last Ash Vampire, and the two would have a tearful bro-ment before his death. I decided against adding another five pages to this monster and just finish this damn thing up. So, Farens lived. Damn it.

With Jormundr, I actually wrote that part about him being a Tongue before Skyrim was even announced, let alone that Dragon Shouts would be integral to the new game. Yes, I knew about those before Skyrim, and yes, Dragon Shouts were in the Lore well before Skyrim went into production. They weren't called Dragon Shouts, however.

Speaking of him, I decided to have Raedyn have a team to go with into Red Mountain because: without some kind of assistance from them, why would I spend so much time getting named Nerevarine and Hortator by the tribes and houses? Also, I figured Raedyn wouldn't realistically be able to take Dagoth Ur out better than the Tribunal would, even with Corprus Disease. So I decided mid-way through the story that the Moon-and-Star would give him some kind of advantage, and some time later that being Nerevarine and Hortator would feed everyone's prayers through that (gameplay-wise useless) ring to give him uber-powers, although it wasn't until about halfway through the chapter that I figured what those powers would actually be. Damn I'm glad I made him an Atronach-born. However, yes, Raedyn using the scrolls of Icarian Flight to escape WAS planned from the beginning.

I'd like to thank every single person who reviewed up until now. I know I made a lot of you wait way longer than you should have, and I hope that fairly tamed ending, showing how Raedyn's finally found a reason to actually live and have hope, would be a worthy ending. This is my first story to have over a hundred reviews, the only one that's lasted for four freaking years, and only the second one I've ever finished.

Again, thank you everyone, sorry about the extremely long waits, and with a little luck, I might make a Skyrim novelization.


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